The Waking of the Eternal Nightmare
by Pups Paws
Summary: The Doctor is injured during the Sound of Drums. Martha and Jack have to stuggle to save him, while avoiding the Master's forces who are still looking for them. Rewrite of LOTTL. A bit 10/Martha, Martha/Jack, and a onesided Jack/10. Complete!
1. It Begins

**The Waking of the Eternal Nightmare**

**Disclaimer: **Just a quick hypothetical? If I said I woned Doctor Who...would the BBC sue me? Yes...oh...damn...then I don't own them...but...you have no idea how much I want to!!

**Summary: **Just a little bit of a detour...that took a long time to end. As the Doctor would put it...the scenic route. Was meant to be just a one shot...but...sort of blew out. Hopefully it was worth it...all those hours...I wrote down the hard copy...A4 book...three pens ran out on this story...57 A4 pages long this is. In reality...hopefully, as I said it was worth it. I suppose that I'll dedicate it to those brave three pens that tragically lost their ink in this venture...lest we forget...well...I'm rambling. Sorry! Off you go...and don't forget to review...every writer likes reviews...every writer...despite how awful their stories or poems are...deserve a review. It takes courage to put things like this in front of you lot...you at the keyboard there...so be nice!

* * *

The car came to a screeching halt, flinging both the Doctor and Captain Jack Harkness forward in their seats.

They both began to complain under their breath, rubbing their sore chests and glancing angrily at Martha, but she couldn't care less.

In fact, she wasn't aware of anything other than the scene unfolding before her outside the front of the car.

Her mother was being pushed and shoved towards a waiting lock up van, struggling as she went.

Despite not being close enough to actually hear what was saying, she could tell her mother was angry and was venting that anger at those that were around her, screaming and swearing.

Martha couldn't move.

She didn't understand what was happening.

Why were they taking her mother?

What had she done wrong?

Where was her father?

What had happened?

What had her friendship with the Doctor caused?

Suddenly, her mother spotted her in the silver car, at the end of the street.

For a moment they looked at each other, sharing a moment of utter fear through a tacit connection that could only exist between mother and daughter.

Then, Francine Jones, began screaming at her daughter.

Again Martha couldn't hear what was being said, but she instinctively knew that her mother was telling her to run for her life and never look back.

How could Martha do that? She wondered to herself, amidst the fear that rolled around in her mind.

She couldn't leave those her poor old mother to her fate.

By that time the small silver car had attracted attention, not from just her mother, but from everyone else at the scene.

Jack made a small noise in the back, almost like an 'uh-oh' but she wasn't paying attention to anyone.

She saw the men in black, who she deemed to be SWAT or something of the like turn to her, with their guns raised.

"Martha…..turn the car around" The Doctor spoke, his voice clear and loud in her head.

He was sitting up straight in his seat, his hands pressed against the dashboard, pushing against it.

He didn't look to comfortable with the situation at hand or the fact that Martha didn't obey him straight away.

He looked even less uncomfortable when the sub machine guns in the hands of the SWAT began to fire; the bullets smashing into the car.

With a scream of absolute fear and raging anger, Martha reached down, put the car into reverse and slammed her foot on the accelerator.

All she could think of was that she was leaving her mother, perhaps her father too. In that moment she felt like a coward, running from the trouble, even if it was under the instruction of her mother and the Doctor.

A grimace formed on her face as the car seemed to crawl to the corner. It wasn't going fast enough.

That fact was proven when the windshield shattered and in the space of about half a second, there was a grunt from Jack, who was thrown backward into his seat and a scream of pain from the Doctor who leaned forward.

Surprise over took her, quickly melting into shock and fear when she saw the Doctor clasping at a nasty gunshot wound in the chest. He was leaning well forward, almost curled in on himself around the source of the pain.

"Doctor!" she cried over the hail of bullets, barely able to hear herself.

"Just drive" she heard him manage through gritted teeth, and this time, she obeyed immediately.

She spun the car around, jammed it into drive and took off with her foot to the floor, suddenly only to eager to leave.

It occurred to her that whatever wounds that Jack and the Doctor had sustained, where her fault.

If she had not hesitated and sat there, thinking only of her family and nothing else, none of this would have happened.

It just further reaffirmed in her mind that the Doctor did indeed know best.

Taking her eyes off the road for a second, she glanced at the Doctor, listening to his ragged breathing, watching as he stayed in that half curled half uncurled position with his eyes wide and face pale.

He himself seemed to be in shock.

Upon sparing a glance at the wound, she turned her head away quickly. Blood was pouring over his hand, almost like there was no pressure being applied at all.

She didn't turn away because she was squeamish of blood, but she had never seen a Time Lord bleed before; more specifically she had never seen the Doctor bleed and it was very, very disconcerting.

Directly behind her, there was a shuddering gasp for air as Jack came back to life. She'd almost forgotten all about him in the panic.

"Jack!" she cried almost frantically.

There was a stubborn groan from him, as he sat up slowly with a hand to his head.

She kept an eye on him in the rear view mirror.

"What?" he said softly, with a hand against his head, squinting as his eyes readjusted to the light.

"Lay the Doctor down, pull the seat back so it's flat….you gotta put pressure on the wound." Martha spoke rapidly, hoping that Jack wouldn't ask what he had to do again.

She really didn't want to repeat herself.

Mercifully Captain Jack pulled the seat back, until it was flat.

Above a low moan from the Doctor, Jack sort of gasped.

"He's been shot!" He cried.

Martha gritted her teeth and held her tongue. She'd been so very tempted to berate him for being slow as he was, but she had no right, as it was all her fault.

She was distracted enough as it was without having to scream at Jack, and having Jack yell at her.

"I know….just…put pressure on it, and keep him awake" Martha ordered, keeping her voice as level as she could.

She couldn't help but cringe as the Doctor released an agonized groan as Jack's hands pressed down on his wound.

He wasn't ever meant to sound that, that wasn't a noise the Doctor ever made.

With a shake of her head, she concentrated as hard as she could on the road before her. She was trying so hard to fight the urge to turn around and embrace the Doctor, begging for his forgiveness.

"Martha….stop the car." Jack demanded abruptly from the back seat.

"What?!" Martha said incredulously.

"I said stop the car. Pull the car over and let me drive. I know a place we can go" Jack said.

Martha couldn't deny that she wanted to swap place with Jack, but she wasn't sure if she would be able to handle working on the Doctor like he was another patient in the hospital.

She'd known him for so long, and loved him for the same amount of time. It was like being asked to work on Leo after a car accident.

There would be no way that she could keep the pressure on the wound and know that she was causing him pain.

"I….I-I don't think I can" Martha stammered.

"Course you can Martha….just pull over….we'll go too slow if you drive." Jack said, his voice totally calm and collected.

Reluctantly, she slowly pulled over and got out of the car.

Jack had pretty much jumped out of the car soon as it stopped and followed her as she got into the backseat. He grabbed her hands and gently placed them on the wound.

Martha felt her stomach rebelling and she whimpered and tried to pull away.

"No, come on…you know what to do?" Jack asked gently.

"Y-yes…I'm a doctor…" she said softly.

"Good…..look. I know that you're uncomfortable….but you are saving his life….think of it that way Martha….you can do it….talk to him…as you said….keep him occupied to keep him awake and he'll keep your mind off it." Jack said, then darted off, and jumped into the front seat, closing the door and gunning the engine before taking off down the street.

Martha looked down on the Doctor's face, as she pressed a hand to his wound. Soon as she applied any sort of pressure, there was a moan from deep inside his throat and his slim body trembled under her hand.

To calm him, she supped his cheek with her hand.

He reacted to this, struggling to open his heavy eyelids and keep them open long enough to see, but he was failing and wasting precious energy in trying.

"It's me….it's only Martha" she soothed, her voice wobbling dangerously as tears pushed against the backs of her eyes.

A faint smile ghosted into his pale lips.

"….I could recognize those soft hands anywhere….Martha Jones" he murmured under his breath.

Martha smiled sadly in response to these words, and gently stroked his cheek with her thumb, reassuring him.

"I'm so sorry" she whispered sadly, shaking her head.

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead Martha head the gurgle at the back of his throat and before she could react properly, he choked.

His shoulders jerked as he began to cough, blood speckling his lips and coating the inside of his mouth.

Martha hesitated again, her heart pounding out of fear. Jack's calming words entered her head and she believed them.

She had to help him, he was weak and hurt and it was up to her. If she was ever going to truly prover her worth to him, she would have to do it now.

"…Just stay calm Doctor….just stay calm….don't panic." She soothed as if he were any other patient, continuing to stroke the side of his face as he convulsed and coughed and choked.

"What's going on?" Jack's commanding voice cut through Martha's mind and she looked up.

His ice blue eyes were gazing hard at her in the rear view mirror, concerned.

"Blood has soaked into his lungs and he's trying to get it back up. I just need to keep him calm or he'll drown." Martha explained in her most clinically professional way.

A single whimper of pain and fear caused Martha to look down on her beloved Doctor, watching as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth and was now tracking across his cheek.

She bent lower to him, whispering words of comfort and peace, gently kissing his cooling forehead, trying to calm him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he stilled. Pale and weak.

Barely conscious.

The struggle had robbed him of nearly all his strength and left him laying helplessly in the seat, breathing raggedly, with a distinct wet rattle in the back of his throat.

It was such a laboured sound, that for a moment, Martha feared that he would simply give in.

"Doctor….Doctor…..it's going to be alright…we've got you…its alright" Martha said softly.

She didn't expect him to respond, he would simply continued trying to stabilize himself.

He was so independent, always doing it by himself. With no or little help.

Not this time.

Martha wasn't going to let him try and recover alone. Regardless if he wanted help or not, Martha was going to help him, she was going to stitch him up, bandage the wounds, and be the hand he could hold when it got too bad.

Soon as Jack got them to this place that he knew, Martha would send him back out. He would go out, scouting for any sort of medical supplies that would make the recovery easier.

As she planned out what she would do to help the Doctor, she absent mindedly stroked his cheek with her thumb.

Her eyes caught sight of his lips, and with suddenly horror, she looked to Jack.

His lips were slightly blue, under the crimson flecks of blood.

"We gotta move faster Jack…he's not going to last much longer unless I get somewhere stable to work on him." Martha said.

Jack glanced at her through the rear view mirror, his ice blue eyes flashing a sort of half wary, half hampered manner.

"Nearly there, nearly there. Keep him talking" He said quickly, looking back at the road.

So, this is what Martha Jones did.

"Doctor….hey…Doctor look at me. Please…" Martha whispered.

But he remained still, his eyes shut tightly almost as if he were trying to keep out the pain.

Desperation clawed into Martha's voice, and tears began to well in her eyes.

"Doctor….please…I'm begging you….open your eyes…." Martha pleaded, tearfully.

Slowly, two deep brown puddles of chocolate opened, just slightly.

Gazing at her, pain ridden, but looking at her.

She sniffed bravely and looked at him sternly.

"You have got to talk to me…Please" Martha said softly.

"…M'so tired Martha….I….I-I need rest" the Doctor said under his breath.

"No! If you go to sleep….I…I can't promise that you'll wake up….and I'll never see you again…" Martha said, bordering on sobbing.

The Doctor looked up at Martha, the pain and weakness so obvious in his eyes. Martha just wanted to take it away from him, even if she had to endure it herself.

All she wanted to do was stop the pain for him, just so the look of agony would leave his eyes.

In her opinion, it had no place in him. He shouldn't even have been hurt in the first place.

"Martha….Jones. Doctor….Martha….Jones" he breathed, smiling a little.

It wasn't the type of smile that she wanted to see on his face, it was a sympathetic smile, the type that a parent gives an upset child, before they explained that there was nothing that they could do to help them.

"Doctor?" Martha asked uncertainly.

His eyes shifted, as he took in her face, but even that seemed to hurt him, a wave of agony washing over his dull eyes, mixing with the sorrow and fear.

The Doctor was afraid.

Not something that she was used to seeing in him, but it didn't belong in him, like the pain.

"I should…have seen you….should have….listened…more often. You're….amazing…so amazing…dear Martha…..I wasted time…should have looked." He mumbled unsteadily.

Martha frowned, suddenly realizing what he was trying to do. And she would have none of it, she wasn't letting him do this to her, not in this time of need.

He was trying, in a very articulate way to say good bye, without the words '_farewell'_.

"No…I'm not having that….you keep fighting" Martha demanded, but the order didn't seem to be so much of an order, but more of a pleading.

That much was proven when he smiled wearily, his eyes flickering shut for a moment, and a few breaths later he opened them again.

"I'm too weak…can't….gotta say goodbye" he explained slowly.

"Just regenerate" Jack butted in, making Martha jump slightly.

She had forgotten the world around her.

She'd been so focused on trying to force the Doctor into living.

"No" the Doctor replied, and Jack actually turned.

There was anger and worry on his face not to mention confusion.

"What do you mean? No? No you won't?" Jack asked.

"No….can't" The Doctor said, looking toward Jack.

It was clear that Jack didn't understand, no one understood other than the Doctor, and he didn't seem very interested in spending what he deemed to be his last moments in this universe, explaining what was stopping from '_regenerating'_.

The tears that had been threatening to fall from Martha's eyes finally managed to break through and roll down her face, and a pitiful sob escape from her throat.

All attention turned to her, Jack's eyes were on her through the rear view mirror and the Doctor was looking up at her.

"Sorry" The Doctor sighed.

"No. That's enough! No sorry Doctor!! You can't Doctor….you can't just leave us like that….it's not…fair….please! I love you….you can't just leave us…any one of us!!" Martha cried.

Her heart suddenly jumped into her throat as she recognized what she had just said.

Instantly she turned away, putting a hand over her mouth and shaking her head.

* * *

The Doctor was silent, his eyes on the roof and a slightly uncomfortable look plastered on her face.

Talking hurt, the words scraped against the insides of his throat and he couldn't even draw in the strength to change the subject.

Waves of darkness lapped against the edges of his vision, and he had to really fight to push them back again.

His chest was on fire, burning with a pain that he had not felt in many hundreds of years. It was so hard just the keep breathing, even with the aid of his respiratory bypass system.

He could feel his hearts struggling, but not so much out of choice, but out of fear.

There was no regeneration.

He needed the link to the TARDIS to help feed him energy while the process was under taken, but the link was non-existent. The Master had severed the link when he'd stolen the TARDIS. He'd managed some how to cut the extrasensory link between him and his beloved ship.

The black shadows on the fringes of his vision were not only unconsciousness.

But death.

Certain death.

And that scared the Doctor.

Martha was right. He could not leave the universe to the mercy of the Maser.

He was the Doctor.

He didn't have the right to die.

It was his job, his reason for existence, to protect the earth and the Universe.

He couldn't leave the people of Earth, the humans that he loved with every inch of his body, to die at the hands of a mad man.

But above all, he couldn't leave Martha.

He'd promised himself a long time ago, that he wouldn't loose her like he'd lost Rose.

He'd protect her until she left…or……died.

It had never even crossed his mind that there could be something more, he'd been so keen on protecting her, keeping her safe.

He'd made this decision after the SS Pentallion ordeal, with the sun virus.

Soon as he gave her that key, he'd made the oath to himself as he looked down at her.

She had been the one that he reached for when the alien fire was incinerating his mind, she'd been the one to take control when he'd given up and had managed to command the dumping of the fuel in time to save him.

She'd been so brave, he'd been so very proud of her.

He'd never been so proud of a human in recent memory. Not even Rose had gotten this level of pride.

He should not abandon her. He could not abandon her after all she had done for him. He _would_ not.

His hand found hers over his wound, and he gave it gentle squeeze, bringing her eyes back to him. He hated the way that she sat there, trying so hard to keep a straight face, but it was so obvious that she was crying, that she was hurting.

He'd seen that look too many times to see it again.

If he did indeed die here, from the wound he had sustained, then he would die fighting.

It was what Martha wanted, it was what Martha would have most certainly done.

"…Can…can you help me?" the Doctor murmured, looking in her eyes for some glimmer, for something that he could hold onto.

She nodded slightly, sniffing slightly.

"…I'm going to try" she said, there was a kind of determination in her voice that told him, whether or not he was going to help her, she was going to go ahead with trying to help him.

Hearing this, the Doctor mustered the strength for a small grin, whilst suppressing a few bloody coughs.

"Then….I can try too…" he murmured, in reply.

It was then that a mutual understanding passed between the two travellers. Martha would follow the Doctor and the Doctor would follow Martha.

* * *

"Here we are" Jack said, pulling into a huge warehouse.

His own heart was throbbing painfully. Not only from recently dying, but for fear of loosing the Doctor.

Quickly, he turned in his set, gazing at the pair in the back.

Seeing as Martha was a doctor, then she would be able to tell whether or not the Doctor was in any condition to move. Though, it did concern him, that she would not be able to use her best judgement with him. Some medical procedures that ultimately saved peoples lives were indeed very painful. And Martha would undoubtedly try and save the Doctor from any pain, other than that which he was already in.

He observed them, concern seemed to be the only emotion he could physically show.

Martha sat there, on the verge of tears with her hand pressed down on the now sluggishly bleeding wound in the Doctor's chest.

"Martha?" Jack called.

She looked up, a frown set upon her face and in her eyes.

"You have to get him inside Jack. I'll take care of him when we're in there. I need you to find a hospital or something. We need medical supplies if he's going to survive. Things like pillows, blankets, things of that kind." Martha commanded.

With a quick nod, Jack slipped out of the car, darted around to the passengers side door and gently, but quickly pulled the Doctor out.

His thin frame was light as Jack hoisted him a little further into his arms so his head was rested against his chest. He took almost no toll on him as he carried him swiftly inside.

By this time, Martha was moving ahead of him, her eyes sweeping the surrounding area, searching for a suitable place where they could shelter out of the wind and the cold and the rain.

"What about there" Jack asked, nodding to an inbuilt office that was like a separate sealed off room with frosted windows.

Without a word, Martha ran over to it and forced the door open. She took a quick look inside

"Yeah. In here" she said, waving a hand to Jack.

The Time Agent entered the dank room, pulling the Doctor's body slightly closer still, hoping to protect him from the cold.

Inside was nothing more than an overturned wooden desk, a discarded metal barrel on its side and a long cabinet that spanned the space of one of the long walls.

Martha pointed to the sturdy plastic structure, gesturing for the Doctor to be lain on it.

Jack did so, gently depositing the wounded Time Lord on the long cabinet, cringing at the low moan that it caused him.

The cabinets were about waist height, if not a little higher, so they really could keep a good eye on the Doctor. It was a similar height to a medical table.

"Okay Jack…Go and find me some supplies. Do you know what to find?" Martha demanded.

Jack glanced at the Doctor, who lay pale and limp on the cabinet, struggling to draw in breath, whimpering barely audible sounds of pain and agony and suffering.

"Yeah….I think so…If not….I'll go back out to find what I didn't find the first time." Jack reassured, tearing his eyes from the thin form of his friends body.

Martha gave him a quick hug, thanking him without words. When she let him go, Jack turned to leave.

"Hurry please Jack…." Martha begged, no longer in that commanding tone, but in her normal voice.

Jack flashed her a charming little smile, and saluted her wishes. Then he darted out the door and over to the car.

He would break every speed limit he could, he had a long way to go.

* * *

HAHAHA.

Am I evil? I'm sorry, but I have got to clear this up. I love David Tennant and I love 10. How could I not. I love 10 and Martha...yes...this is a slightly 10/Martha fic...I suppose. If you tilt your head sideways. But I'm not really doing anything other than what usually happens. But...it goes on...and on and one and on...no..jokes. It gets better. I promise. This was such a labour, but I got so into it later on. I've re-written this part three times. This would be the forth time...its not at all easy. Please...I'm begging you on behalf of the 10th Doctor and all that he loves and I love and you love and the universe in general. Review...it was a labor of love...but it makes everything so much easier if people praise you for it!!  
Review and I promise I'll reply. Please...by the way...has anyone seen the Catherine Tate show with David Tennant as her English Teacher.

I LOVE IT!  
BITE ME ALIEN BOI!!  
Love you all and review!!


	2. To the Brink

Thanks for the Reviews.

If you wanna see the Disclaimer then check the first Chapter.

Just a little bit of Jack/Martha and unrequieted Jack/10 in this one. Just a note, that I have not seen series 2 of Torchwood, but I'd to see them, and I have not seen Series 4 of Doctor Who which is really killing me...sometimes I wish I lived in England...and other times I don't. ;P

Anyway, read on. Read on. Read on.

* * *

**_Chapter 2: To The Brink_**

The sun had set, bringing the cold and the rain with it.

The freezing winds howled through the holes in the roof, rattling rusted chains that hung forgotten from the ceiling, pushing endlessly at the small office that Martha and the Doctor had taken refuge in.

Even as Martha sat on the floor, shivering against the cold, she thanked her luck for being able to light a fire in the barrel with bits of the old table and a little help from the Sonic Screwdriver. There was plenty of wood left, more than enough to last the night, and at that moment the flames were strong an healthy; they'd probably be right until morning at the very least.

The fire provided a little warmth to Martha, but she did not care for herself so much as her concern for the Doctor.

It was vital that his weakened body be protected from the elements and him catching a cold would not be the best situation to recover in.

Martha had already sacrificed her red leather jacket to stop him shivering, but nothing seemed to help. She hoped that it was just a reaction to the pain. He'd fallen silent a long time ago, probably asleep, or doing some fancy Time Lord healing thing.

But, nonetheless, Martha had found an old cloth in one of the cabinets and had tied it around the wound to stop the bleeding. Or slow it.

Regardless of what it was doing, it helped her greatly, the simple knowledge that she'd done something that in its own right should help him.

Loosing blood was not exactly good, to any species she supposed.

All she needed to do now, she felt, was to suture it and bandage it and perhaps if Jack brought back an oxygen tank, take the strain off his lungs.

It wasn't like he was breathing easy anyway.

It would give him a better chance of recovery. Because without the Doctor, the Master would not be opposed in anyway.

But she couldn't give him that chance as there was no equipment yet.

Jack had not come back.

"Where is he?" she mumbled angrily, with one of the worst frowns she could muster.

It had been hours and she was beginning to worry.

Then, without warning there was a screech of tires out front and a door slamming.

"Martha! Martha open the door!" it was Jack, who'd conveniently come back.

Scrambling to her feet, Martha pulled open the door, to see Jack leaning into the backseat of the car.

"Help me" Jack called, and obediently Martha came to help.

He turned to her with an armful of medical supplies and a triumphant look on his face.

"Here, take these. Stick them in there. I'll get the rest of it, and you….you just do what you've been trained to do" Jack said, dumping the supplies into her arms and turning her toward the office.

She turned quickly and charged back into the office, dumping the armful of supplies at the far end of the cabinet so they would not bother the Doctor in any way. She'd barely managed to move away when Jack came barging in, dumping the rest on top of her pile.

He left for the car again and left her generally to do her job.

Without the proper precaution, she dug through the pile found a surgical needle and thread, and some bandages.

Jack dumped the last of the stuff into the pile and returned to close the door, before standing over the barrel, warming his hands on the heat radiating from it.

"Where did you go?" Martha asked as she expertly threaded the needle.

"Cardiff. I went and raided the Hub for supplies. Should be everything you need for alien triage" Jack murmured, glancing at her.

Smiling at his little joke, Martha set to work.

Twenty minutes later, Martha clipped the bandages together, testing them slightly before retrieving the small oxygen tank from the pile.

He really had thought of every little thing.

As she strapped the oxygen mask over his mouth and nose; there was a heavy scraping noise. Barely bothering to look up, Martha knew that he was dragging in some large metal boxes so that they could sit at a comfortable height and not on the cold, wet and not to mention hard and dirty floor.

"He right?" Jack panted as he reached the doorway with the second box.

She hummed a small affirmative reply before reaching over and taking a few of the pillows from Jack's stash and arranging them behind the Time Lord's head.

There was a faint moaned protest which she silenced with gently tutting and soothing words, before he fell silent again; breathing deep and calm.

"Okay…..we've set up camp….we've got a fire going….it's late at night….whose for ghost stories" Jack asked, sitting down on one of the crates after retrieving a warm blanket to wrap around his shoulders.

Martha laughed as she quickly covered the Doctor in as many blankets as she could spare, before stealing one herself and sitting on the crate beside Jack's.

"Right. I've got one. There once was this man called Harold Saxon, the ruler of Great Britain. He was a mad man whose friends were all these basket ball shaped metal orbs that were incidentally psychotic murders. Harold Saxon himself was not from earth either but a raving lunatic reject from Gallifrey…..no hang on. That's reality" Martha said sarcastically.

Jack shook his head, chuckling sadly.

"Not exactly a dream reality. But I think you forgot the part where earth's hero is actually close to death, lying in some abandoned warehouse in the slums of London Town." He added.

She offered him a tight smile, before her eyes wandered to the diminished form of the Doctor.

"The last thing I said to him before he was shot was 'it's all your fault'" she murmured, remembering with apprehension the look of reserved sorrow on his young face when she'd screamed at him.

Jack leaned forwards, his hand clasping her wrist, which drew her out of her morbid reverie.

"Hey, you can't blame yourself. I myself have blamed him for a few things that could only have happened if I met him. But you were scared and I'm sure he understands that, and of course he'd forgive you for it." He said gently.

Martha shook her head though.

"But he didn't deserve it. It's not his fault….he can't control it and I can't blame him, in fact….I brought it on. I shouldn't have been so eager to get to my parents….I should have stopped to think. Should have listened to him….when…when he said 'turn the car around'…but….I froze" Martha said, tears welling in her eyes.

"Look. Should've, could've, would've, but didn't. Too late to be reminiscing and saying of only now Martha, my girl. You gotta look to the future. All we can do is lay low and wait until the Doctor gets his strength, and then we can strike back. But…until then. We stick together and stay _low" _Jack said, gripping her wrist a little tighter and flashing an encouraging smile.

Martha tried to return the smile, but in her melancholy mood, it appeared more like a feeble half smile you give when you half believe something or you're half listening.

Being the person that he was, Jack got up off his box, sat down on Martha's and wrapped his arms around her, letting her curl up against him while he gave her a few calm quiet words he would usually save for his team.

It rained on and on throughout the night, never ceasing. It succeeded in keeping everything frigid.

Martha had eventually fallen asleep on Jack's shoulder, so he gently lay her on the ground, wrapped warmly in the blanket.

Jack sat against the box next to her, his hand on hers that was poking out from under the blanket.

He understood her for some reason, on a much deeper scale than he had Rose.

She was just a kid the same as Rose had been, but she was practically in the same boat as he was.

The one where he never looked at you twice.

It was so obvious that she was infatuated with him, and he hadn't known until a few hours ago. Briefly he wondered what it had been like travelling with him if that was the norm, her quietly loving him and him just not seeing it.

How many times had he trampled her feelings without knowing it?

The poor girl.

Hell, she was beautiful if Jack didn't mind saying so.

But she was, that kind of plain beauty, where she didn't wear a heap of make up, and didn't rely on her looks to get by. She had brains and beauty.

Jack liked them that way.

He smirked.

Who was he kidding, he liked them anyway, any race, any gender.

It didn't matter to him.

He saw what was inside, and to him that was what counted.

Rose, he'd seen something deeper, darker.

Martha, he could see nothing but this sweet innocence; and a longing for the Doctor to see her for who she was.

He liked them about the same, but he felt a little closer to Martha as he wasn't really competing for anything here, the Doctor didn't mind.

Obviously.

She mumbled something in her sleep, and her hand wrapped around his, making him smile.

"Easy girl….it's alright…Jack's here" he soothed, leaning forwards and brushing a few strands of hair from her face.

He looked up into the darkness to see the Doctor on the cabinets, laying there.

The Time Lord was still breathing, occasionally his breath hitching but usually normal.

He idly wondered what had triggered this new regeneration in the Doctor.

He remembered talking about Rose to him back before the Master regenerated himself, and he said something about the Time Vortex and a Time Lord being turned into a vengeful god and taking the Time Vortex out of Rose.

Perhaps it had something to do with that, he couldn't be sure. But he was like to get to know this young, quirky version of the Doctor.

He seemed nice, and a little easier to bend.

Maybe if he tried hard enough, Jack thought slyly, he could get the Doctor to see him like he saw Rose.

Or, maybe he could help Martha.

She seemed to want it a little more than he did and she was his companion. It must have hurt a hell of a lot more for her.

While he sat there, accompanied by his own thoughts, he heard a noise from outside, over the rain that constantly splattered on the large roof and echoed into the empty building.

It was a strange noise, not a normal noise that you would expect to hear from a deserted building.

A noise that he heard a lot of while he worked.

Static!

Static over a two way radio.

His heart began to beat with a little more desperation, and he let go of Martha.

They weren't alone.

Slowly, he shifted his position so he was crouching, and made to stand up, but a dark shadow moved at the edge of his peripheral vision.

To his utter surprise, the Doctor was waving a hand warning him to stay down.

He must have heard it too, and brought himself out of his healing sleep or whatever he was doing. Or with some luck he was back to full strength.

Jack refrained from snorting, just as red laser sights swept into the room from the windows, scanning the room for any moving objects.

Something that he himself did with nothing more than eye sight. It was obvious that these people were government, and most likely from Saxon's army.

Beside him, he heard quiet but quick footsteps approaching the door.

Slowly, he managed to move silently so he was positioned right in front of the door, crouched low. He leaned back on his haunches, ready to launch himself at the first person to enter through that door.

Vaguely, he could feel the Doctor pulling on his mind telepathically, regrettably reporting as physically useless.

Martha was still fast asleep, and would be of no help. He didn't want her involved in any fighting anyway and there was no time to wake her up and get her to hide.

Jack was their only hope. He himself prayed that they wouldn't kill him, that they had orders to bring them in alive. Because if he died, it would take him too long to come back around.

Behind him there was a shuffling noise and for a second Jack feared they were already inside. He risked a glance back to find the hunched form of the Doctor now standing.

He had pulled off the oxygen mask and was on his feet, albeit leaning heavily against the cabinet, pale and trembling.

Jack almost risked a growl at the Doctor, demanding that he get back up onto the cabinet, that he could only get hurt worse from what he was doing. He glared hard at him through the darkness, but the ancient eyes of the Time Lord which almost seemed to glow in the darkness shot back a look of stubborn determination, that could not be swayed by any threat.

Sighing silently, Jack tensed himself, turning back to the door to watch the darker shadows moving under the bottom of the door.

The familiar rush of adrenaline ran through him just before the door burst open.

Men wearing what looked like SWAT gear stormed in, guns drawn, screaming orders at them.

Jack, however never responded well to orders that he couldn't make sense of.

He pushed himself up from his haunches quickly, launching himself into the man, slamming into him and sending him staggering backwards gasping for air, effectively blocking the doorway for a second.

The windows suddenly shattered as more of the men attempted to get it, but they were met by a swift kick to the chest from the long legs of the Time Lord, who was able to fight and hang onto the cabinet at the same time.

Jack laughed, watching as the men collapsed, coughing and choking; he'd never seen the Doctor resort of violence of this kind before.

Then again, he had never been in this kind of situation before….had he?

There wasn't time to think of the answer to the question, as door that had been blocked was now unblocked and the amount of men trying to get in at once made it difficult to defend.

He heard Martha screaming, and agreed that it wasn't the best time to be waking up, it wasn't the best time to be here period.

Then, the plan came undone.

There was a sharp rap of gunfire, and Jack felt the bullets impact into his chest.

They had used their guns, probably under orders of take what you can, whoever resists, kill.

As Jack fell, dying for the moment, he knew with a certain cold horror that the Doctor was in serious danger now.

He could not possibly hold them off even if he was full strength, and Martha was going to be of no help.

All Jack could hope for was that they would show leniency and take him and Martha away, not kill them.

But the fact was, what ever these men wanted, they were going to get.

Martha watched as Jack fell to the floor, dead. She looked away, unsure of what was going on. There were people screaming at her to stay still, don't move or we'll shoot, but there was so much noise, all the men seemed to be screaming at once and the Doctor was on his feet, lashing out at whoever came near her.

She didn't understand what was happening, she was scared and disoriented.

Waking up to glass shattering and Jack laughing maniacally and the wounded Time Lord kicking people was not the best situation to find yourself in.

More glass shattered and she let out a squeal as someone grabbed her wrist and pulled. It was a gloved hand, so certainly not the Doctor.

She heard him cry out to her and she turned, pulling violently against the man that had her.

Someone must have spotted the bandages wrapped around his chest as one of the men slammed the butt of their gun right into the wound.

Martha screamed profanity as the Doctor recoiled, taking in a hiccupping gasp.

Suddenly, the pulling became stronger and as hard as she tried, she couldn't stop her movement. She watched in dismay as the Doctor coughed violently, blood again coating the inside of his mouth.

That thick, ugly sound at the back of his throat and the dark crimson liquid dribbling from his mouth; Martha felt like she was going to throw up.

Slowly, grasping at his chest and fighting desperately for air; he sank to his knees. The hands were pulling her away from him when he so obviously needed help, so out of instinct Martha began screaming and kicking and punching and struggling in general.

"Let me go! Doctor! Doctor!!" she screamed as they dragged her towards the door.

He raised his heavy head, leaning after her, once hand on the ground and the other outstretched in an attempt to reach for her.

"Martha…" he managed in a low undertone, through the pain.

During her vain attempts to free herself, one of the men leaned down over the Doctor, making to pick him up. But what must have been the squad leader held a hand out, watching the alien laboured breathing and weak movements.

"Leave him there. He's not gonna make it."

A strange fusion of anger and fear hit Martha like a tonne of bricks, and with the help of a sudden burst of adrenaline, she managed to free a hand and reach out for him.

The look of pain and sufferance and desperation that was in the Doctor's eyes made Martha choke, tears welling in her eyes.

"Doctor!" she cried, trying to wrench her wrist free from the man's iron grip.

"M-artha….let her…go" he demanded feebly.

But to Martha's disgust, the men that were in the room, simply left; leaving him to suffer in agony and die.

Her free hand was caught again and she was pulled to the door.

"NO! DON'T!! Let me go! You can't just leave him!! DOCTOR!" she poured all she had into a desperate scream.

The Doctor now had a hand on his chest, but was trying to crawl after her.

"Don't….go…M-artha" he pleaded weakly.

It broke her heart to hear him so scared and vulnerable and hurt.

One of the men spotted to Doctor's movements and returned to the room.

Martha was dragged out of the room, and lost sight of the Doctor but she saw the man's foot lash out in a swift jarring kick. She heard a choking nose, then a gurgling which faded into silence. Only when there was silence did the man leave the room and follow his team.

Martha wailed and screamed, crying out his name into the darkness, hoping that someone would come to the rescue, that someone was save them.

But no one ever did.

* * *

So there we go. We'll get into the reall meaty part of the story soon, and just a quick thing...this story is mainly from the Doctor and jack's POV, but not first person.

You know, we might loose a bit of Martha as we need suspicion and things and stuff and yeah...

Please review. If you do, you never knew when a big blue box might turn up in your living room.


	3. Humanity's Demise

****

Wow...I didn't know you liked it so much people...thanks for all the reviews.  
A special shout out to forestwife! HELLO PIPPA!  
She's been such a cool chick in this whole thing.  
Awesome. Here's the next installment. Humanity's Demise.  
Mainly Jack in this one, a bit of Martha.  
We all know that Jack can't sleep cause he's immortal right? Good. Cause there's a little bit of that in there

* * *

CHAPTER 3- HUMANITY'S DEMISE

It wasn't a conscious reaction.

If it had been, it would have been over so long ago.

But as it was, Jack had no choice.

Like when one held one's breathe too long, one's body, despite one's mindset, must always take the next breath; provided there is air to be breathed.

This is how it was with Jack.

His lungs expanded and his eyes flung open as his heart spontaneously restarted. The shuddering first gasp of air after waking was always he worst, Jack found.

It hurt.

His lungs contracted, painfully so and there was never enough oxygen.

Out of habit, he let out a low moan as his body slowly readjusted to living, providing him the strength to sit up.

Everything was quiet now. They'd gone. The men with the guns.

Distain marked Jack's features as he gazed down at his favourite shirt, now riddled with bullet holes.

He gritted his teeth and swore profusely in his mind. About a great many things.

His ruined shirt, the Master's empire, the Toclafane, the Doctor, Martha, the men with the guns and his lack of his team some of the things most aggravating him.

After managing to calm down a little, Jack slowly turned to survey the damage, figuring that he was alone.

But not so alone after all.

His breath hitched in his throat when his eyes found the still form of the Doctor lying prone on the floor nearby.

Bloody ran freely from his mouth, and Jack could her the fight for each breath and the blood in his throat.

Anger boiled in Jack's veins as he swore revenge on whoever did this; and he had a good idea of who it was.

"Doctor? Doctor, can you hear me?" Jack asked, putting a gentle hand on his back.

A faint moan escaped the Doctor upon an exhalation.

Then a whispered word of pain.

"…Martha…"

Jack leaned closer, to find the Doctor's eyes had opened a crack and his chocolate irises barely visible.

"What?" Jack asked softly.

The Doctor glanced wearily at Jack, before trying to move. A pained expression grew upon his face and the struggle for air became more obvious.

"T-They…t-t-took…her" he gasped, his eyes closing for a number of reasons, perhaps out of weakness, sadness, sorrow, the pain; anything.

It wasn't hard to recognize that he needed help, Jack didn't need a doctor to tell him that; so murmuring reassurance of getting Martha back, he gently took the pillows and blankets and set him up on the floor.

After this, he gently strapped the oxygen mask back over his mouth and nose.

"Breathe deep…let it go for a while Doctor. Rest a little. I'll think of a way to get Martha back" Jack whispered, stroking his baby soft brown hair.

Thankfully, the Doctor relaxed after a few deep breaths and his breathing soon evened out, despite the faint rasp of blood at the back of his throat.

Every now and then it would cause trouble and he would descend into a coughing fit.

All Jack could do was remove the mask if blood came up, wipe his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket, then replace the mask.

Jack was useless until the Doctor had strength; and he intended to wait for that time.

Martha could wait.

She'd tough it out.

She was strong.

She'd survive.

* * *

Time had run away from him. No longer could he distinguish the minutes from the hours and the hours from the night.

The sun dawned and Jack knew it was day at least.

He continued to sit there, tending to the Doctor's needs and sitting there picking at the dirt under his finger nails.

For the first time in a long time, Jack felt tired.

There seemed barely enough energy left in him to lift an arm to place his fingers on the Doctor's neck to monitor his pulse.

Rubbing a hand across his eyes, Jack groaned.

"I could do with some coffee" He murmured to no one in particular.

Then, all of a sudden, his armlet issued by the Time Agency trembled. With a wary glance, he flicked it open, and gazed at the small screen.

Only Torchwood had his frequency, so perhaps it was Gwen or Owen that was calling him, asking him for orders.

So quickly he sent it to the laptop that Martha had retrieved from her apartment before it blew and opened it to find a the Arch-Angel logo flash up on the screen then a big blue box on the screen appeared with red lettering in it.

'VALIANT TRANSMITTING'

His shoulders sunk a little, as it was not his team.

He briefly wondered where they were and why they weren't asking for orders like they should.

Frowning, he settled the computer in his lap and leaned a little closer at the screen, watching it as a video link flickered into life, to reveal what appeared to be the insides of a massive office; which Jack knew to be the Valiant, protector of the Earth's skies.

The American President stood on the upper level, facing the camera gazing out into the world.

His name had eluded Jack for the moment, not that it mattered to him anyway.

He began to address the world, explaining that he was transmitting a global message on every frequency.

"Explains why I can hear you" Jack murmured, gazing dully at the screen.

The camera transmitting the images moved, swinging over the rest of the room, revealing the Prime Minister of Great Britain, one Harold Saxon, better known as the Master, sitting there smugly.

Jack uttered a low, guttural growl and turned to the Doctor, gently shaking his shoulder.

Slowly, the Doctor's eyes cracked opened, and focused on the laptop screen that Jack settled in front of the two of them.

A small groan of anger emerged from the Doctor as he gazed wearily at the master sitting there like a king.

Both Jack and the Doctor struggled not to scream in anger.

The camera abruptly left the Master and returned to the President, who spoke the word Toclafane.

Then, almost like they'd teleported, the basketball sized metal orbs slipped into existence with flashing lights and sweet, child-like voices.

The President spoke loudly, proudly in a most America like way; introducing himself as Earth's representative along with some other crap.

The orbs, that both Jack and the Doctor refused to believe were called Toclafane; hovered around the President, growing to about four in number, their lights blinking systematically and their shells decorated with darker metals in odd patterns.

The nearest Toclafane moved a little closer, then spoke in a high male voice.

"You're not the Master" it stated in an almost flat tone, like it was disapproving.

The President seemed to loose a little of his air.

"We like the Mister Master" A female voice said happily.

As they spoke they seemed to become more aggressive, moving faster around the President as if angry.

"We don't like you!" the male voice spat.

Jack could feel it coming, long before it happened. These 'Toclafane' were agitated by being spoken to by someone other than the Master.

The President had a very limited life span from then on.

"I-I-I can be master, if you so wish. I will accept mastery over you, if that is God's Will…" The President stammered, watching their movements closely.

"…He looks scared. Never show fear to another race…rule one" Jack murmured.

He glanced at the Doctor, whose eyes were still barely open, but showed the same concern that he himself felt.

"Stupid man. The Master is our friend" a male Toclafane laughed.

"Where's my Master, pretty please?" a female Toclafane begged.

Then came the voice, that young, insane voice belonging to the Master. Jack heard the Doctor move beside him, and put a hand on his should to calm him.

"Oh…alright then. It's me! Ta-da!" the Master said, leaping out in front of a camera, grinning manically.

A tremor ran through the Doctor as he raised his head slightly; a little frown forming beneath the oxygen mask.

Instantly, the 'Toclafane' swirled around the Master affectionately if that was at all possible, bleeping just slightly.

The President glared down upon the Master, still acting like he held some place above the Time Lord.

"Saxon! What the hell are you talkin' about!" he demanded, loosing that graceful manner he had.

The Master returned the look of distain to the President.

"I'm taking control, _Uncle Sam. _Starting with you" He turned to a Toclafane that hovered by his head. "Kill him"

The Toclafane responded, swooping down before the Master, four sharp spikes suddenly protruding from underneath and the little lights flashed red and orange.

A red laser fired from the Toclafane and slammed into the President who screamed as he was disintegrated.

The Doctor grunted, now glaring at the screen which displayed the Master, clapping and laughing like a mad man. He bounded up the steps, turned on a heel and took the President's place

"People of earth! Wasn't that just the best fun you've had in years. Oh! Such a comedy!" he laughed.

Jack gritted his teeth.

"Sicko" he ground out.

"Now!" Down to business! Doctor…I'm talking to you…I know you're out there watching this with the freak that can't die…Yes. Don't think I don't know. Oh…oh yes, I can feel you there, right there. Aw…but look…you're so weak…can't regenerate…in so much pain…oh yes. I know you're in your death throes. But don't think I'll just let you go peacefully. See…I might not know where you are…as I had to kill those agents; they were asking too many questions. But!. But…I do have this" the Master said, clicking his fingers.

The camera moved jerkily to a door that slid open.

Out came two burly guards, with Martha being dragged between them.

The Doctor tensed, his eyes opened fully, and he was soon gasping as his hearts pounded.

"Martha…" he muttered.

Jack looked sadly as poor Martha who was sobbing as she struggled. But what concerned Jack the most was the darkish patch across her cheek, showing up against the brown of her skin.

They'd hit her.

The Doctor had seen it too and was rising.

"No…no don't. Doctor, calm down" Jack said, but it wasn't working.

The Master laughed.

"Ah, panicking aren't you. The fear. That's nice, such fear, Doctor, for this poor, poor girl" the Master said smugly.

Jack was starting to worry, as the Doctor was wasting energy in trying to move.

Martha was dragged to the foot of the stairs and dumped on her knees; she was grimacing in pain.

"…M-Martha" the Doctor croaked, reaching for her image.

"No. Stop it. Lay down…Doctor!" Jack demanded.

"She's my prisoner Doctor…mine. Your TARDIS, your companion, your beloved planet with all your beloved humans are now mine. And doesn't that just burn?! You've lost Martha, just like you lost Rose." The Master taunted.

A half sob left the Doctor as he gazed at Martha's shivering frame, sobbing desolately. His fingers brushed against the screen.

The Master now looked out; to the Toclafane.

"My children! Remove one tenth of the world's population!" the Master ordered.

"NO!" the Doctor roared with a sudden burst of anger.

The Master glared down the camera, straight at the Doctor.

"Enough" The Master growled.

And with that word, the Doctor gave a soft moan, before he collapsed.

"Doctor!" Jack screamed frantically.

"Ha-ha. The earth's saviour…dead…I'm the last of the Time Lords! No more Doctor!!" the Master cackled.

Jack's trembling fingers found he Doctor's neck, finding nothing but stillness. No matter how many times he repositioned his fingers, he could not find the precious thump of the pulse.

The Master was cackling like madman, Martha was sobbing brokenly, Jack was panicking; all as the world died.

All that Jack could think of doing was CPR, so he rolled the Doctor onto his back, removed the oxygen mask; then took a deep, deep breath and formed a tight seal over the Doctor's mouth with his own and breathed out.

He saw in his peripheral vision that his chest visibly rose, before falling as Jack took his mouth away to begin compressions. He made sure to pump down on each heart 5 times, careful to avoid the wound.

Sometime during the process, the Master's transmission ended.

Not that Jack cared.

After six attempts, he felt the lack of energy creeping back into his limbs. He was becoming desperate.

"Doctor! Please…you gotta come back!" he spoke during the compressions.

He breathed another breath for him.

"You gotta breathe…you can't let the Master have the earth"

Another breath.

"Millions of people will die if you don't come back! You can't leave us now!"

Another breath.

"What about Rose? Rose wouldn't want you to give up like this!"

That didn't work either, so as he breathed his final breath for the Doctor, he tried a different approach.

"You're leaving Martha to die…she'll die without you…don't let her go like that…please" he begged.

As he gave the final compression for the Doctor, his body suddenly jerked back into life, in the same fashion as Jack. Except he began to cough up more blood.

Jack quickly rolled him onto his side, so he couldn't choke on it and die again.

Upon checking his pulse, he found it thready and faint.

Soon as he stopped coughing, the oxygen mask was back on and he was back under the blankets with his head on the pillow.

It was 8:02 when the world ended.

* * *

Martha watched from the safety of the Valiant as billions of Toclafane descended upon the earth; the skies ripped red, clashing violently with the blue.

The Toclafane came from a blood bath, to instigate another blood bath.

Yes, Martha knew the entirety of the Master's plan, she'd been told so much and despite her begging him to stop, he simply smiled and said:

"If I won't listen to the Doctor. What chance do you have?"

Everything she loved was gone; her earth, her freedom, the Doctor, Jack and even the TARDIS.

The Master had turned it into a paradox machine, allowing the last humans from the _Utopia Project_ to come back in time and kill their ancestors. The poor TARDIS, without its rightful master, without the Doctor; it was suffering. Pining for him.

But the Doctor wasn't ever going to come back.

He'd died.

Been murdered by the Master.

The Master had taunted her, played on her emotions.

But she didn't hear him. Her mind had fallen into darkness, and she was unable to cope with it all.

The Doctor, her beloved Doctor, gone for all eternity. Earth was dying beneath them, thousands of litres of human blood was being spilt for a mad man's enjoyment and there was no one to stop it.

All she could do was watch from the bridge, which was now empty save for her.

She rested her forehead against the cold glass, gazing sadly down at the earth, catching only glimpses of the horror below.

She wondered about her family, who were aboard the Valiant.

She'd only seen them once, and they had seen her too. Francine had been screaming apologies to her, and her father could only look at her sheepishly. Tish sat with them, gazing at Martha, almost seeming to ask where the Doctor was and when he would stop all this.

Never.

This hell would never end.

Millions of people were dying with no hope of safety.

The apocalypse had indeed come, and the world belonged to the Master forever more.

A single tear slipped from her eyes; before she shook her head slightly.

"Doctor…" was all she could say.

* * *

**Okay. That was it. I'm typing up the next chapter now. Review and be kind.  
If you don't like it then find another story to read.  
What more can I say?  
Uhh. Yeah.  
Any thoughts? Anyone? If you do, just tell me. Hopefully they're good.  
So, off you go. I'll let you run free until the next chapter comes up.  
Should be the beginning of Last of the Time Lords.  
Totally new episode there.  
Nothing normal.  
Other than the characters of course. I even added in a few of my own!!  
Hooray!!  
I'm rambling now. Review. Be Kind and Enjoy!**


	4. Renaissance

**We've hit the Last of the Time Lords and we've already started an overhaul.  
Thank you for all the reviews and I say that from the bottom of my heart.  
Thank you, thank you, thank you.  
Please keep reviewing or I might not want to finish the story. Ta! **

* * *

CHAPTER 4: RENAISSANCE

Jack watched the world decay. The crops failed, the buildings collapsed, the entire world fell into decline.

And all he could do was watch.

Jack felt so useless; his soul duty was to keep the Doctor safe, hidden and alive. He knew that after two near death experiences, the Time Lord would need some fair amount of time to recover.

While the Doctor slept, Jack tended to him as best he could, trying his level best to assist him in any way possible.

Despite going through both World Wars, Jack hadn't had too much experience in medical situations. He usually carried those that were shot back to the medical unit that was behind the lines.

He did his best to remove the bullet and re-suture the wound, but he knew that it was nothing special.

Hour by hour, Jack continued on with his menial existence.

What concerned him was that the Doctor had not moved; not a flicker of an eyelid since being revived.

Which was un-natural.

There were moments when Jack almost screamed for help, just wanting to hear the sound of another persons voice other than his own.

Many times, he thought of his team, hoping they were alright, knowing everything would be so much easier if they were at his side.

Then again; odds were that they were dead, as the Toclafane descended at seemingly random times and culled the human race, they were most likely among the dead. Of course, the Toclafane were at the bidding of the Master who was safe in the sky, aboard the Valiant, hopefully with a _safe_ Martha.

It had been Martha, almost certainly; the thought of Martha being alone and without hope that had given the Doctor reason to live.

As these random but logically connected thoughts flooded through Jack's mind, time continued to slip by, trickling away from him un-noticed.

The barrel fire was crackling away, fighting against the frost of London's winter.

Jack lay curled up by the barrel, clinging desperately to its warmth.

For three nights, the frosts had come creeping into the small office, now home.

The fire and the blankets were the only warmth, as even the days were cold now. He was almost certain that snow was coming in.

That was all he needed. Not only to dodge the Toclafane, but to survive the snow and the freezing temperatures of Britain's winter.

It never got this cold on the Boeshane Peninsula. The twin suns of the Terga system always burned brightly, the creamy clouds constantly scampering across the deep blue sky, much unlike Earth, if he forgot a sun.

Jack frowned and curled up a little tighter to fight the sudden knot in his stomach. He missed home so much at times like these. He wanted to go back, away from Earth, away from this horror.

Like a coward, he wished he could run.

He wanted to so badly.

But he was trapped here like a humanoid fly in the Master's web. Along with the Doctor and the rest of the world.

A sudden moaning drew him from his memories. Immediately, he took it for the building, creaking with the cold. In a very human way, it seemed to be complaining.

But on second analysis, it was a voice; and the only other things with a voice in the immediate vicinity, to his knowledge, was the Doctor.

Jack sprang to his feet, the blanket falling into a crumpled heap behind him, forgotten along with the cold.

He could see that the Doctor's eyes were pinched shut and he was struggling weakly under the weight of all the blankets on top of him.

"Doctor...Doctor, calm down…okay? You're not alone. I'm right here" Jack said, unable to truly believe that after almost a week of solid silence, the Doctor was stirring.

Then, he spoke.

Slow, muffled words to begin with, words that Jack could not understand. He begged the Doctor to repeat, leaning as close as personal space allowed.

"…Ma-rtha…" he breathed.

"What? What about Martha?" Jack asked fervently.

"Is…Ma-rtha…a-alive?"

_Is Martha alive?_

Honestly, Jack didn't know, but he felt in his heart that she was. What reason did the Master have to kill her. He was sadistic, and would keep her alive for her sufferance.

"Yeah…I believe she is; yes. To my knowledge, the Master didn't kill her" Jack reported after a slight hesitation.

A very vague smile tugged at the corners of the Doctor's mouth, before he let his head fall to one side, facing Jack. His eyes struggled open, and they made eye contact.

In that moment, Jack felt better. The injured Time Lord conveyed a subtle message, of pure hope.

Four simple words spoken in a gaze.

_It will be alright_

A soft smile, the smile of a child believing in something invisible came to Jack. Like he'd been told that Santa Claus was real.

As a child, he believed in the magic, hoped that some good was out there always working. The Doctor seemed to command that invisible magic, it surrounded him.

He himself was a legend that lay before him; and legends were almost always unbelievable, inconceivable even.

To fix the Earth after the Master had struck seemed inconceivable.

As Jack looked down upon the thin, damaged frame of the Earth's Time Lord, looking into the pools of ancient wisdom and golden light that were his eyes, all he could think, along with a smile was this and only this:

_Here comes the hero_

So it was that Jack began to prepare for the Doctor's total return and his fiery vengeance.

The thoughts of '_every nightmare must have it's waking' 'every darkness must have a light from which to spring from' 'Every horrific night must have a glorious sunrise' _kept running through his mind, encouraging him.

Whatever was going to happen, the Doctor would be the centre of it all.

At some points he stopped and questioned his blind faith in a single being, but he was believing in _the Doctor_. The single being who had an eternal lifespan, barring incidents, who travelled throughout time and space in a small wooden box.

Not exactly possible.

Neither was Jack for that matter, but he was still real.

There was no point in questioning the universe, as it simply was. Therefore questioning reality which in turn meant he was questioning the universe and was a waste of Jack's time.

Which suddenly was well spent, scavenging for food, water and weapons. Every piece of odd looking technology Jack saw, he picked up and stored it for the Doctor.

The Doctor himself was making a steady recovery after he'd seen Jack and heard about Martha.

It wasn't all that long before a month passed since the shooting and the Doctor had resorted to sleeping. He held regular conversations with Jack, explaining what was needed from him that day before the Time Lord sank into a deep healing sleep.

The stitches thankfully dissolved after six weeks, so Jack didn't have another worry about the Doctor and helping him recover.

Soon the time would come, that they would revolt and free the world, which sounded childish.

But Jack was so looking forward to putting a bullet into the Master's skull.

Eight weeks; eight weeks since the Toclafane first descended.

It was also the first time Jack found the Doctor on his feet.

He walked in out of the snow, pausing to shake his head to clear his hair of any powdery crystals.

"Jack" the Doctor called.

It was in that commanding tone that almost drew you toward it. Having gone through World War One and Two, Jack likened it to that of a general speaking to troops headed for war.

Without another moments hesitation, he jogged into the familiar office to come face to face with the Doctor.

Jack almost staggered back in surprise.

"You're up?!" he said.

It earned him a withering look from the Time Lord.

"Well done Jack. I wasn't too sure if I was '_up' _or not. You've just confirmed it for me. Thank you" he said sarcastically.

Jack shook his head with a laugh.

"No, I didn't mean it that way. What I meant was…" Jack began.

But the Doctor waved him into silence.

"Forget it. We've got more important issues on our hands." The Doctor said, turning on his heel and walking back toward the cabinets.

"Yeah…we always do. Not that I'm implying your health isn't big, it's just half the world has kinda been slaughtered" Jack said, hesitating.

"That much I know Jack. At least three billion humans have died and more will die if we don't stop the Master and his little friends. If not, six billion humans will die…I'm not going to let that happen." The Doctor said softly, bending down to peer into an open cabinet.

"Well" Jack said, clearing his throat and standing up straight.

As the Doctor turned, Jack stood to attention, adding a stiff salute.

"Awaiting your orders, sir" Jack said dutifully.

He caught sight of a curious look on the Doctor's face, before the orders were issued.

"I've figured that seeing as we are dealing with humans, and if human history has taught me one thing. It is that where there is oppression, there is resistance" the Doctor elaborated.

Jack nodded, wondering what the Doctor might possibly be thinking as a mission for him.

Abruptly the Doctor rounded on Jack, his eyes wide.

"I want you to find the resistance movement and join them" the Time Lord said.

This wasn't the order that Jack had been expecting and the confusion showed on his face; interesting the Doctor.

"What?" he asked.

"…I…I-I thought you'd want to get all packed up so we could storm the Valiant." Jack said.

The Doctor snorted, and shook his head, giving Jack a quizzical look.

"Are you sure you know who I am?" he asked.

Jack didn't even bother to answer the question, forcing the Doctor to explain himself.

"I'm not nearly strong enough and you're not nearly ready. That's why you have to go and find the resistance and join them." The Doctor said with a casual wave of his hand.

"Not ready?!" Jack sputtered, angered and confused but the flippant nature of the Doctor.

How could this Time Lord be so focussed on saving human life, then go and post pone the saving part until a later date? While humans were dying?!

Anger turned to fury when the Doctor nodded slowly. Jack tried as hard as he could to quell the urge to give that man a right hook.

Yes he liked him, very much so, but how could he be so calm and collected as the world fell apart around them?

Yes, he would make it better.

Yes, Jack believed in him.

But at some points, the Doctor did not seem to be connecting to reality. He couldn't have, not with his soft, well spoken voice.

"H-How am I not ready?!" Jack stammered, tripping over his own tongue.

A mysterious gleam shone in the Doctor's eyes as he kept a straight face when saying simply:

"You are not ready"

Jack couldn't believe it. How would the Doctor know if he was ready or not?

He ground his teeth as the Doctor looked away.

"What 'bout you" he said softly.

"Oh…I'm staying here" he replied offhandedly.

Now that was hard to swallow.

The Doctor was practically kicking him out.

Jack shifted his weight, planting his feet and folding his arms.

Either ignoring him, or completely oblivious to Jack's negativity, the Doctor retrieved his thick rimmed glasses from his suit pocket and settled them on his nose as he leaned down to pick up an object Jack had scavenged for him.

"If you want to help me Jack, then do as I say" the Doctor said, not bothering to turn around.

"…Or what?" Jack asked, stubborn to the end.

As this, the Doctor turned, his usually bright, intelligent eyes now dull and dark like an approaching thunderhead.

Unfolding his arms, Jack felt like he finally understood why the Daleks called the Doctor the Oncoming Storm.

"Or the world ends, Jack. Regardless of what you choose to do, I will save Martha; even if it is the last thing I do. You're help would be a great asset, but I am not willing to argue about this. So you decide Jack" The Doctor said bluntly.

The decision was easy, but under the dark gaze of the agitated Time Lord, the words froze in his throat. He looked away in shame, but the Doctor wanted an answer.

"…I'll do it" Jack murmured, shaking his head a little.

He glanced at the Doctor to find the look of anger and grim determination, then; in a most Doctorish way, it disappeared to be replaced by that intelligent mischievous light.

The scowl on his face melted into a childish grin; in a split second he went from menacing to charming.

Perhaps that's what scared Jack the most about the Doctor.

His unpredictability.

"Good. Now, I'll call you Jack. Don't come back until I call" he said.

Just as the Doctor's natural self returned, so did the blind trust return in Jack

"Alright…good luck Doctor" Jack said.

He retrieved his belongings, before giving the Doctor a brief hug.

"Good luck Jack. Keep an eye out for my signal. And be careful" The Time Lord instructed.

Jack nodded dutifully, saluted his commanding officers and darted out the door, intent on completing his mission; even if he didn't get the reason for it.

Little did he know that he wouldn't return to that office for a very long time.

This reality was jarring and wrong. Deep in his gut, the Doctor felt the uncomfortable twinge. Made worse by a hidden paradox.

All these signals confused a Time Lord's senses, like a whale with it's echo location system.

Without it, movement was practically impossible.

Only with a Time Lord, the confusion did not cause paralysis, thank goodness.

The Doctor felt blind though.

The usual progression and sequence of time was no longer in mind's eye and the amount of time that had passed was lost in the confusion.

Not to mention his physical weakness.

There were moments when he was so overcome by feelings of weariness and despair that he had to sit for a minute to let it pass.

It disrupted his thought process.

Not welcoming to a genius as he was.

A million options for action coursed through his mind at any one second, constantly being cut down by time restraints, parts, and of course feasibility and possibility.

Ideas such as call upon the Judoon to remove the Master to a maximum security planet such as Jorag-Noc did not help.

He had no money with which to pay the Judoon, he could not contact them, Sol 3 had undoubtedly been cleared by the Master for reason of terminal extinction, the Judoon were not nearly smart enough to catch the Master and he could not risk the massacre of another thousand beings, among other things.

Blood seemed to fuel the Master; the more the better.

Gently, without conscious thought, the Doctor pushed his glasses back up his nose as he leaned over the pieces of junk that Jack had collected as he mused.

Most of the objects were broken and beyond repair, but there were some objects that he could use.

He needed to find a way to harness the ArchAngel Network's power. The thoughts of the entirety of humanity might have just enough power, if the Doctor could channel it, he might just be able to restrain the Master long enough to move him to the TARDIS, unhook the paradox machine and get him to Jorag-Noc.

Maybe.

He had time on his hands, but working with objects of less than ideally suitable stature was beyond difficult.

When it was ready, he'd call Jack, get him to return and everything would begin.

The day he'd see Martha Jones again was approaching albeit it a mile off, but approaching.

His hearts twinged painfully at the hazy memory of her being dragged away, screaming for him.

His hands froze for a second as he remembered her caring for him, coaxing him back into living.

Such a brave girl, such a brave human.

Perhaps, if he looked and tried hard enough, there could have been something between them.

Some kind of bond.

He wasn't sure.

Not anymore.

He'd once been adamantly against it, even her. But he'd softened over the travels, warmed to her. Enjoyed her company.

That smile, those eyes, they made him feel special, like he was worth something.

Like he mattered to someone.

But he'd lost her.

His head sank, his eyes falling.

He'd lost her as he'd lost Rose, like the Master had said.

The agony of this realization was overwhelming and a few tears pushed their way from the Doctor's eyes before he got a hold of himself.

Martha may have been gone like Rose, but unlike Rose, he could get her back.

And he would.

No matter what he had to do, he's get her back.

It crossed his mind that he was being selfish. In all truth, he didn't at all care.

Just this once.

Getting Martha back was for his own gain.

The world could wait.

_Just this once. _

**Okay, a few short things. Where the Boeshane Pennisula is, I dunno, I just made it up. I haven't seen any Torchwood episodes of Series 2, so I'm going to ignore that. Mmkay?  
The Doctor's being a little selfish.  
So what?  
If you ask me, he should be allowed to be. If he likes Martha which he does in my story then he would fight tooth and claw for her.  
Do anything.  
Which is what he'll do.  
Keep a watch out for the next chapter. Be nice when reviewing. Please?  
Thanks!**

* * *


	5. Final Stages

**This chapter was harder to write than the others previously. Don't hang me for it okay? Might not be as good as the other ones, but believe me, we're getting to the confrontation between the Doctor and the Master. Who wants to see that?!  
Well I do for one.  
Anyway, read on and review. **

* * *

**CHAPTER 5: FINAL STAGES**

The world fell into chaos, then ruin, then finally settled between extinction and oblivion.

Humans resorted to fleeing, hiding as much as they could as the Toclafane killed for pleasure. There was no telling when one had a passing fancy to massacre a human being just for the fun of it.

As least the seemingly co-ordinated attacks ceased, no one knew why. But no one questioned it either.

The world, or the majority of it, seemed to have been left to wither and die, without a leader for a country, war broke out, so many people died until the only ones that were left were those who were resigned to the Master's ruling.

The Master had dominion over all life on Earth and with no human challenging him, it appeared that this cruel half existence would be unending.

But to those curious enough to travel abroad, there became an apparent fact.

Something was being built.

Something big.

At first the Master's plans were shrouded in mystery, but as time when on and the large building structures began to take shape, the intelligent people began to realize the truth.

On many continents, the Master had begun to erect massive missiles, hundreds if not thousands clustered at one point, all standing there.

The Master was preparing for war, but with who?

Anyone.

The Master was notoriously mad, and undoubtedly war hungry. During wars in various countries, the Valiant was observable high up in the sky, seemingly surveying the bloodshed.

Then, after the war the Valiant vanished, forever roaming the skies.

Occasionally, there were whispers of Resistance. Mere whispers that most people dismissed.

The Resistance was led by a man that was immortal, working tirelessly with his companions to save the world, the defeat the Master, to overthrow his regime.

This story appeared to be nothing more than a legend to comfort the children at night when they grew restless.

Though there were some that dared to believe, reasoning the Earth had fallen to small orbs like creatures, why couldn't there be an immortal knight in shining armour travelling the world trying to save the final scraps of humanity from the Master's terror.

Why couldn't there be a waking to the nightmare?

* * *

The ocean clawed desperately at the rocky shore, struggling to cling to a single pebble as the tide dragged the water back out again, only to hurl the water back to the rocks and the cycle to begin again.

Jack frowned as he sat on a large rock, watching with cool blue eyes the motion of the water. The desperation was so very human in a way, like so much else on Earth.

"Jack!" he heard his name being called from down the shoreline and it drew his attention.

Three solitary figures stood a hundred metres from his position, as a forth ran back.

He simply observed the young Resistance fighter with a calm fondness.

It was Michael; the youngest of he Fighters. With short blonde hair, so obviously bleached and his movements and cobalt blue eyes and a youthful smiling face. Jack liked Michael, his lust for life so obvious in his movements. It reminded Jack of his own younger brother.

"Jack!" Michael said again, reaching the rock that Jack was so comfortably perched on.

"Yes Michael?" Jack asked with a smile.

It took him a few moments to reply, as he took several deep breaths.

"Ricky's found a cavern…about a mile or so up the coast. He wants to know if we're gonna stay there" Michael said hurriedly.

With a glance at the rest of his team, then further down the beach, he let out a sigh.

"Yep. Okay. Tell him yes" Jack said, sliding down off the rock.

Michael nodded, then gave a quick salute before charging off, his feet crunching hurriedly across the millions of pebbles on the beach.

Jack watched him, a slight knowing smile on his face, which turned into a wise grin when he saw the other Resistance Fighters.

Ricky, Adam and Brett.

He'd picked them up along his travels.

A lot like the Doctor.

Ricky was Jack's second in command; a short man with steely eyes and gritty determination. He gave the air of a man who'd seen too much and deemed his memories better left unsaid, the reliable type of guy that Jack felt even Torchwood could use.

Then, he'd found Adam, rather tall with outlandish hair and gleaming eyes. Friendly and easy going; Jack never once heard his voice raised above normal levels. There seemed to be this quiet undertone of wisdom in his words, never saying anything that didn't need to be said.

Then, finally the two brothers. Brett and Michael.

Brett was elder by six or so years, but he appeared as young as Michael. Jack felt him most comparable to the Doctor, but not nearly as eccentric.

Brett was calm and collected in tense situations and was so very protective of his little brother.

He'd confronted Toclafane without the slightest flinch of fear; but he was friendly. Which Jack found refreshing. He enjoyed observing the brothers, as it allowed him time to reminisce o his own brother, and his own relationship with that brother.

Slowly, Jack began to amble after his team, hands in pockets as he watched his own breath as a fine mist before him.

As he walked along the long, solitary coast line with the sky grey and listless above him; Jack' mind slowly wandered back to the Doctor.

It concerned him that he hadn't seen nor heard from the Time Lord of forty four weeks. Perhaps he'd become a simple number of the dead, a statistic in the amount slaughtered by the Toclafane.

Or maybe he was still working on a way to stop the Master; glasses perched precariously on the tip of his nose, eyes focused on a tiny piece of apparent junk. His entire world surrounding him zoomed in on his intricate experiments. Tongue curled over his top lip, occasionally murmuring soft incomprehensible words in English or perhaps Gallifreyean before shrugging his shoulders to displace the stiffness of hours hunched over the cabinet. Raising a hand to impatiently run through his unruly hair, causing it all stand on end, making him appear like some escapee from a lunatic asylum.

"Jack!"

Michael's call roused him from his vivid thoughts of his Time Lord friend.

"You coming?!"

Michael was always so impatient, so headstrong, so eager to do it now. He constantly bombarded Jack with questions of when they would rise up against the Master and over throw his empire. Of course Jack hadn't whispered a word about the Doctor, so all he could say in response was soon.

The Time Lord was kept secret from everyone at all costs.

Just as Jack made to reply, he felt a strange sensation emanating from his wrist.

He paused, unsure of what to make of it really. For a moment, he considered ignoring it, but when the feeling persisted, he pulled back the sleeve of his thick overcoat to examine his Vortex Manipulator for any signs of abnormality.

With a casual flick, he opened the top to reveal two words on the small screen, that both filled him with hope and terror.

'_We're ready'_

The message could only have come from one source, which in turn meant that the Doctor was alive, which made Jack smile.

"Change of plans boys! We're heading into London!" Jack called, turning abruptly on his heel and marching up the slopes and into the knee deep grass.

A few seconds after he had entered the dewy thicket, he heard the rustle of moving grass behind him.

The Resistance Fighters were following, with the same blind faith as Jack followed the Doctor.

He smiled, he was comparing himself to the might Lord of Time.

Impossible.

* * *

Jack hadn't remembered London ever being so quiet.

Or derelict for that matter.

No one roamed the streets anymore; cars sat haphazardly upon the roads, doors open.

Leaves blew about in the autumn wind, biting savagely at any limb left out to the elements far any longer than a minute.

To Jack, everything seemed to be covered in a layer of dust or grime, simply elaborating the lack of human activity.

It felt dead.

The entirety of London felt dead, like it had passed away and before Jack lays it's empty shell abandoned and left to rot.

"…Not a pretty sight" Brett murmured with a sad shake of the head, his amber eyes glimmering sadly in the dim daylight; his blonde hair moving gently with the breeze.

Jack squinted, struggling to remember the directions.

London seemed to have changed, it wasn't the living breathing heart of Britain anymore. It was nothing more than a barren wasteland, regardless of the buildings and structures upon it.

This change confused Jack, and he suddenly felt very, very lost.

"Uh…this way" Jack said, taking a step forwards.

Finding a single living breathing person in the city of the dead was going to be a massive task. Even if the 'single, living, breathing person' was the Doctor.

Slowly, Jack wormed his way through London, feeling a little closer and a little more confident with each step.

It took hours for him to final recognize the building that he needed, hours of wandering through London trying to place various half destroyed buildings that seemed familiar.

He stopped walking, right in the middle of the road. He titled his head back to see the large warehouse, just as deserted and lifeless as when he, Martha and a dying Doctor first drove into it.

"That it?" Ricky asked softly as his team stopped beside him.

Jack murmured a slight reply of _'yeah'_

Michael let out a low whistle and rocked back on his heels.

"Bit of a dump" he said.

Ignoring the remark, Jack turned to his team and looked them all in the eye.

"Stay here. And that's an order. Don't follow me until I tell you." Jack said sternly.

"Yes sir" Ricky said dutifully.

"Of course" Adam replied smartly.

"Yep" Brett murmured quietly.

"Uh-huh" Michael sighed distractedly.

Jack spared a moment to glance at Michael, who was looking around the area they were in, before he leaned over to Adam.

"Keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't wander off…like before" Jack whispered.

Adam snorted slightly, before nodding and agreeing with his orders.

Slowly, Jack then turned from them, disregarding his team any longer and focusing solely on the warehouse.

Squaring his shoulders, stretching his neck and finally taking a deep breath to calm his quivering nerves; Jack took the first of his final steps in his forty-four week long journey.

It seemed to take forever to reach the gaping mouth of the open roller door that served as the entrance to the huge warehouse.

The shadows seemed almost instantly to swallow him up; it took his eyes a little while to adjust.

The warehouse was as dark and dingy and uninviting as ever it seemed. All the windows were covered with thick layers of dirt, making the light struggle weakly through. Great rusted chains hung in long, low loops from the ceiling, moving just slightly in the breeze that managed to squeeze in the building.

Everything was dank and oppressing, almost screaming out to the Ex-Time Agent that no person in their right mind could remain here for forty-four weeks, isolated and still maintain a good grip on reality and sanity.

Then again, the Doctor never was originally in the right mind.

The thought crossed Jack's mind, that he was in the wrong place, despite how familiar it seemed. He was here, but there were no signs of life. No movement other than the lazy swinging of the chains, no noise other than the occasional creak or rasp of rust on rust.

It occurred to Jack to call out, but as in many cases, his body thought better. The idea of his voice echoing around the dull and empty warehouse did not appeal, as it was entirely possible that any Toclafane nearby may grow curious of such actions as being in a warehouse alone.

If the Doctor was indeed here, he must have avoided the Toclafane better than Jack could imagine.

He took a few more steps forward before catching sight of the small office.

That small office that inspired so many emotions inside Jack's simple heart was still there.

His pace unintentionally quickened as he headed for the door, but he didn't get there.

There was a sudden childish laugh from behind him which make Jack freeze.

"Such a pretty boy…play with me"

The spherical orbs spun into view, bobbing up and down gently. Jack would have thought better of it, if it weren't for the splashes of dried blood upon the smooth metal surface of the Toclafane. As it floated before him, the four sharp, blood stained metal spikes seemed to flare into existence.

That child-like giggle, of electrical origins split the air, but the Toclafane spoke no words.

This human was not worth her time, therefore play time was effectively ending with life time.

Jack braced himself.

Regardless of the Immortality, dying still hurt and being sliced to ribbons would not be enjoyable. He squeezed his eyes shut as the Toclafane began to move.

But the searing pain of metal meeting flesh never came.

In fact, the Toclafane squealed, like a little girl having her hair pulled. Beneath the squealing, there was a buzzing undertone. A familiar pitch, stirring deep feelings of belonging in Jack.

The shrill squealing finally came to an end with a dull thud.

Jack peeked open an eye to find the now simple ball of metal lying uselessly on the floor. Exactly like a shiny soccer ball, in fact Jack had to resist the urge to give it a good, hard kick that would send it skittering away.

"Jack"

He heard his name being spoken in the warehouse, directly in front of him in fact. But there was nothing more than shadows.

For a second, he thought he glimpsed the outline of a person, but his mind immediately dismissed it as imagination.

"Oh…right…sorry" came the voice.

Barely a second later, there stood the slender form of the Doctor, as ageless and as Doctorish as ever.

Jack raised his eyebrows and his mouth fell open in surprise.

Where did the Doctor spring from; he couldn't have been standing there before as Jack would have seen him.

"Where'd you come from?!" Jack asked, shocked.

The Doctor seemed to sigh with great impatience before rolling his eyes.

"Gallifrey. Now hurry up. Get in here…and bring that thing with you" the Doctor demanded, turning and striding back into the office.

Out of habit from years of service in the military, Jack obeyed his instructions, picking u the Toclafane without a second through and following the Doctor.

It had once upon a time had been clear and empty, but now it was cluttered, experiments strewn over every surface available. Wires and hunks of unidentifiable metal, the old barrel sitting in the corner, cold and unused.

"Close the door, you'll let the cold in" the Doctor murmured as he leaned over a cabinet with a few odds and ends on it.

"Uh…"Jack murmured, kicking the door shut.

The Doctor glanced at him through his thick rimmed glasses, before turning his attention back to his work.

"Yes?" he asked.

"…This?" Jack asked, holding up the orb for the Doctor to see.

Though he did not seem the slightest nit interested in it, or Jack for that matter.

"Just stick it out of sight. Don't worry about where, it's deactivated" the Doctor said.

So Jack simply tucked it under one of the old blankets on the floor; before approaching the Doctor.

At the moment he could tolerate being ignored as the Doctor seemed to be focused on a few pieces of what appeared to be circuit boards.

Jack simply waited.

Finally, with an exhausted sigh, the Doctor removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes and turned to Jack.

"Now…what do you want?" he asked.

Jack was taken by surprise, and for a moment he lost control of his composure.

"What?! You called me!"

The Doctor raised his eyebrows slightly and blinked a few times.

"Sorry?" he asked innocently.

His tone held nothing more than evidence to suggest he'd forgotten. Jack attributed this to working far too hard without rest. With a deep breath, he remained calm.

"You called me, with a message stating 'We're ready'" Jack explained.

For a moment the Doctor stared blankly at Jack, before his eyes lit up and a smile broke onto his face.

"AH! YES!" he cried loudly, raising a finger as if to claim some sort of victory.

His sudden enthusiasm was infectious and soon Jack was smiling.

"We are ready! I'm ready, you're ready, the Masters' ready" The Doctor elaborated needlessly as he tended to do an awful lot.

"Yes, yes Doctor…but…I can't help but…well feel the need for you to answer a few questions." Jack said, intentionally slowing the pace.

The Doctor caught eye contact and nodded, signalling for Jack to continue.

"…Okay…what was that stunt outside? You seemed to appear out of thin air! Like magic!" Jack said.

"Ah…not magic, my dear Jack. Science! Time Lord Science, manipulated by the most genius of genius'. Me!" The Doctor crowed proudly.

"Alright, yes, but how?" Jack said, simply reminding his eccentric friend what conversation they were having, as it was at that moment entirely possible for the Doctor to skew off into a tangent about other genius things he had done.

But Jack's words locked him in, and with a slight nod, the Doctor explained.

"Well, in the most human of human terms, basically, I manipulated the weak telepathic field of the ArchAngel network creates among the human race, I've managed through much hard work to concentrate it into the TARDIS key as the TARDIS has similar qualities. So by wearing the key, you become…unnoticeable" the Doctor said, holding up the TARDIS key on a long piece of twine.

Jack gazed at the key, thinking of words that would both describe his amazement and not inflate the Doctor's ego. But the Doctor took this for confusion.

"Demonstration!" he said.

"…Yeah" Jack murmured hesitantly.

"Watch me. See. Right here…okay" the Doctor said, then slipped the key over his head.

For a moment, Jack watched the Doctor but his mind strained against his eyes pulling them away from the Doctor.

"Hello?" The Doctor asked, waving a hand.

Jack growled in frustration as he struggled with him mind, his head aching. Of course, the Doctor began laughing and removed the key from around his neck.

"See! Aren't I brilliant?! I am the genius of all genius' that ever existed" The Doctor laughed.

Rubbing his sore eyes with a hand, Jack shook his head.

"How'd you think of it?" he asked. "More to the point, what gave you the idea?"

The Doctor's eyes narrowed and he frowned.

"What makes you think that I didn't come up with it myself?" he asked suspiciously.

Jack could tell that he'd need to tread very carefully here, as the Doctor did not like to be toned down in any way, least of all for his inventions or innovations.

"Don't get me wrong, you are a genius. But this couldn't have just popped into your head like that. Something must have given you the idea" Jack said carefully.

Slowly, the Doctor nodded, taking the words as fair comment, most likely as he had praised the Doctor's keen mind.

"I got the idea from the Master. I've been to Earth so many times and not once sensed a Time Lord; why? Because he concealed himself from me using the low level telepathic field" the Doctor said.

Understanding, Jack nodded, but then a thought occurred to him.

If a Time Lord could sense other Time Lords, then the Master would be able to sense the Doctor.

"But what about the Master? Shouldn't he know you're still alive?" Jack asked, keeping cool, knowing that panicking would not help.

"No. The Master is a psychopath and he is convinced I'm dead. So he'd subconsciously ignore my existence, he wouldn't even recognize it. Relax Jack. We're safe…not only safe…but ready!!" the Doctor said with a disarming smile.

* * *

Jack soon discovered the Doctor's intelligent and frankly, genius plan.

The Doctor had not been interested in the Toclafane that Jack had held as he'd familiarized himself with the intricate workings of them. He had taken about ten or so Toclafane for experimentation.

When Jack asked what they were though, a strangely sorrowful look came to the Doctor's eyes and he changed the subject.

But he'd managed to reprogram one, removing the inside and put a device that he had created inside. The device, apparently harnessed the abstract energy of human thoughts via the telepathic field into a weapon which would restrain the Master long enough got the Doctor to acquire more permanent accommodation for him.

Now that was brilliant.

Inspired even.

Jack couldn't help but let loose a few praises to the Doctor, which kept the Time Lord smiling.

They'd all be transported up to the Valiant courtesy of Jack's armlet; including the Resistance Fighters. The Doctor said they would be useful in protecting their assets; more specifically Martha and any other innocent human aboard the Valiant.

To Jack, the Doctor seemed completely calm about this whole thing, reaffirming in Jack that in many ways he was indeed alien. It occurred to him that perhaps he wasn't connecting to reality again as he was using a similar tone of voice as before.

Regardless, Jack withheld any possible criticisms of the Doctor and allowed the Time Lord to issue instructions.

He wanted, if he could to take something of sentimental value from the Resistance Fighters.

He stated that if he was clever, he'd be able to create the 'ignorance' field around the object so that the Fighters wouldn't be the weak part of their plan. Not only did he want items from the Fighters, but Jack to return his prized TARDIS key for manipulation.

This was when Jack called his team in and introductions were exchanged

A kind of nervous energy descended on the group.

They all knew it was the final stage.

* * *

**Is that good enough? Actually don't answer that. Just review and be nice. It was hard to write, but a labour of love.  
The Four Resistance Fighters are from my own creation, so anyway...moving on. Review and be kind as before.  
See you soon!**


	6. The Motion and the Act

**Back again.  
This chapter was hard in parts, especially the beginning part of it. But...I got there. Hope you enjoy that. Thanks SO much to everyone who reviewed.  
But we're not done yet. we've got a little while to go.  
Enjoy and review and remember to be kind...especially for this chapter.  
Some Ten/Martha here...**

* * *

**CHAPTER 6: THE MOTION AND THE ACT**

No one had the courage to speak at first.

The Resistance Fighters were watching the Doctor with wide eyes and blank faces.

Jack supposed they were trying to understand what he was doing.

An impossible task that could and would only end up in a headache.

Originally, Jack had worried that the Doctor's 'manipulation' would take too long.

Yet the Doctor had brushed them off without much more than a word or two and a wave of his hand. And here he was, finishing up, barely ten minutes after starting.

Jack merely waited, maintaining a healthy air of boredom about him, just to get under the Doctor's skin.

He was never happy when he was being rushed.

Finally, with a sigh, the ancient Time Lord shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

"Done" he said, turning to Jack with a triumphant grin plastered on his face.

Jack smiled tightly and motioned for his Fighters to retrieve their items.

They obeyed, holding them away from their bodies with their finger tips as if at any second the small item would explode.

Of course, they knew the plan, but the concept of Time Lord science was beyond their grasp and as wise humans, with anything foreign, they treated it with caution.

Either the Doctor had ignored the looks on these looks of wariness both aimed at him and their objects or he did not see them.

He was looking directly at Jack.

"So…now what Doctor?" Jack asked, dreading what the answer would be.

With a childish grin, a slight tilt of his head to the right and a wink, came the answer.

"We save the world" he said as if it were a totally normal occurrence.

Well, maybe it was to him.

Jack sighed, trying unsuccessfully to calm his trembling stomach and odd tingling feeling in his limbs. He swallowed hard and turned to his team.

"…Weapons ready" he said softly.

Their guns, small sub machine guns were hanging across their bodies and with nervous motions they clicked the safety off.

"You shouldn't have those" The Doctor murmured over the buzzing of the Sonic Screwdriver that he was using the activate the controlled Toclafane.

"Defence, Doctor" Jack said.

He caught sight of the Doctor shaking his head.

"No one is firing anything other than me. You might as well leave them here. As long as I can help it, no one is dying today. This is the day that ends all that" the Time Lord said.

"Sorry, but we're keeping the guns Doctor…might serve for some help in stalling the Master." Jack said, to which the Doctor only snorted.

But he said nothing.

There was no way out now. No return. It was do or die.

Jack breathed another heavy sigh, before regarding his trembling hands.

The emotion of fear and apprehension always ran through him before a battle. He remembered it so well from the wars.

"Put the key on Jack" The Doctor said softly, his voice level and calm as usual.

But there was no longer any happiness or excitement in his tones, just a calm, ready feel to it.

"Put the necklaces on boys, then come here" Jack said as he slipped the key over his head.

Thankfully, with the necklaces on, you could see the others that also were wearing it. Jack briefly wondered what it would be like otherwise.

"Now" the Doctor said, addressing everyone, the orb floating diligently beside him.

"We all need to be calm and quiet about this okay? No freak outs with the guns, okay."

The Resistance Fighters nodded; Michael hesitated though, but with a small smile from Brett, he nodded with as much conviction of the others.

It made Jack smile unconsciously; the brotherly connection stronger than ever.

"Jack…you ready?" the Doctor asked, stepping into his vision.

Glancing at the Time Lord, he gave a slight nod before flipping open his Vortex Manipulator and letting the Doctor program it for the Valiant.

"Okay, everyone hands on and hold on tight. Don't let go" The Doctor ordered.

The Fighter's grabbed onto the Manipulator and with a sly smile, the Doctor hit the button.

* * *

It was almost instantaneous.

Almost.

He felt the ground disappear under his feet and for a split second there was nothing between him and time.

Around him was a tangled mess of limbs, thick and heavy.

Five people could not effectively cling to one man's forearm and be comfortable.

Then again, nothing about this upcoming event would be comfortable.

No, wait.

He was wrong.

There was one thing that made it all worth it.

Martha Jones.

He'd finally be able to see her again. And the Doctor was prepared to jump through the fires of the molten planet Nesta to get to her.

Publicly, he was doing it for the principal; he wouldn't loose another like he'd lost Rose.

Personally, he was doing it for himself and no one else and nothing else.

It was true, Martha was not Rose, never could be, never would replace her in his hearts.

No one could.

Yet Martha was different, she was intelligent, both academically and logically. She was so brave, willing to walk the stars alone if the Doctor couldn't, but she'd always come back with something to make him move.

Back with the Plasmavore, he'd been willing to die to save the Earth.

He'd wanted to die.

Sure, there were heaps of other ways to stop the Plasmavore.

Heaps!

But the notion of the pain ending was just too tempting.

Ironically, it was Martha who saved the day.

Realizing that the MRI scanner was going to explode; reviving him using primitive CPR techniques.

Brilliant.

She's originally struck him as different.

Martha Jones, the curious medical intern who wanted to see the moon's surface and stand in the Earth-light.

He couldn't forget her words.

"_I mean we could die any minute…but all the same…it's beautiful" _

Very unique.

Very bold.

Very Doctor.

She was precious to him, and he would be damned if the Master took that away from him.

He'd fight until his last breath for her safety.

And he meant it.

* * *

The Doctor was glad when they landed, as the sickening feeling of teleportation always got to him.

He was the first to take his hand from the Vortex Manipulator and give himself a shake.

Clearing his throat, he commanded attention from the quietly complaining Fighters.

"Okay. We are on the Valiant. Everyone has got to be quiet, calm…no one can see us if we don't want them to. So follow my lead" The Doctor said, before turning and making to step forwards.

"But…where is that Toclafane? Isn't it meant to be with us?" someone said.

The Doctor looked over his shoulder and flashed a re-assuring smile.

"I've got it on remote control, I call. It comes. Alright…follow my lead" The Doctor said as he took a few tentative steps towards the door.

Behind him, he heard Jack giving a few murmured commands, but despite the intended strictness of his voice, to the Time Lord it seemed more like a series of requests.

It was all too obvious that the Resistance Fighters were scared, and Jack was concerned about what lay ahead.

Hell, he himself was scared, but someone had to lead, and it always fell to him.

Fear was a luxury the Doctor could never afford, he had to come across as a figure of power and standing. It was the only way he could do things without using death as a weapon. That was a last resort.

Sadly, most of the time, those he confronted underestimated him, and thus resulted in their demise.

With a shake of his head, he turned his attention outwards, to the surrounding environment.

Below and behind him he heard the faint, but steady roar of an engine room, meaning they were relatively forward in the ship, nearer to the bridge, which was were the Doctor could sense the Master.

The feeling of this certain Time Lord inspired such fury in the Doctor, but he also needed to keep him alive.

A Time Lord, other than himself must be protected. He was the one being that could remain with him throughout eternity. Even though he was an enemy, the Doctor would be glad to talk to the Master, despite the Master's psychotic mindset.

To talk to one of his own would be nice.

It suddenly occurred to him that he was nervous.

His mind always wandered when he was nervous. As it was doing so now.

"Come on" the Doctor whispered to the others behind him and slipped through the doorway.

Jack and his group followed silently, walking through the labyrinth of long metal corridors that criss-crossed at random intervals.

Steam billowed from various machines, giving the air a damp, moist smell that seemed to somehow contribute to the feelings of apprehension and fear.

The Doctor walked quickly, with purpose, in very set directions, following the solid feeling in his mind of the Master. There was another feeling on the bridge though, different from the other human that were obviously guards. It was nearby the Master, a softer, more humane feeling with slight traces of background radiation that could only come from the Time Vortex.

His hearts where pounding.

It was her.

Miss Martha Jones was alive and in the room with the Master.

How would he be able to control himself? Restrain his hearts from taking over his body and charging to her side, wrapping his arms around her and never letting her go.

This was not something he'd planned on stopping. Not even something he'd even planned on happening.

Which he considered slightly short sighted of himself.

Sheer will power would have to get him through he supposed.

Suddenly, he found himself at the foot of the stairs that led up to the bridge.

The Doctor turned to the Resistance and Jack who had faithfully followed him and were now standing behind him with eyes wide and full of almost paralysing terror.

"…Okay. I want you to take out the guards…I don't mean kill, knock out. Move quick and act on my signal. Be calm about it. I trust you" he said quietly.

He received stiff nods, before he himself took a deep breath and ascended the stairs.

Slowly, the room came into view, the room he remembered seeing exactly one year ago. The elevated section of the room, visible only by its stairs. A long, low, flat, glass table with a polished surface and black curving chairs. The wall directly opposite had large, circular view ports that gave way to the fantastically blue sky outside.

Then, as he reached the top of the stairs, just about to enter the room through the doorway; came that maniacal laugh he'd heard resounding many times in his head over the past year.

"They're so stupid. You've just got to pity them...sometimes." The Master's voice hit the Doctor and for a moment he feared the Master knew of their plans.

"…Humans…no great loss…perfect patsies for a war" the Master chuckled.

He relaxed a little, but only a little. The Master was going to force an act of war; but on who and why?

Perhaps there was absolutely no sanity left in the Master's head.

Slowly, he eased himself into the room, remaining as calm as he could in such a tense situation. Concentrating on keeping his strides level and slow, he managed to lead his team into the centre of room by the table.

The Doctor glanced at Jack, who made a few signals with his hands, indicating in some sign language known only to them that the plan was in action. They were to watch for the Doctor's signal when in position.

Thankfully, there were only four guards in the room, two at the main door and two guarding the stairs.

Unconsciously the Doctor looked up at the Master, whose back was turned to the room.

Good.

It made him feel a little safer.

Then, he scanned the room.

Before he froze, almost choking.

The slight noise caught the attention of Jack whose eyes found what cause the Doctor distress.

Martha Jones, sat slumped against the wall, her wrists bound by thick, metal shackles that were attached to heavy chains which snaked up to hook onto the wall.

Her face was hidden, but the Doctor felt the sadness and resignation rolling off her. His hearts cracked and his feet moved without his wishes.

Jack however moved quickly, grabbing hold of his wrist and halted him as he gazed sadly at Martha.

The Doctor turned to the Ex-Time Agent.

"_Let me go" _he mouthed.

Jack stared deep into the Doctor's eyes, shaking his head, conveying the message that the job had to be finished, before he could do anything.

Martha was so close, but so far away.

With a deep breath to regain his composure, the Doctor checked that the Resistance Fighters were in place.

When he received a nod from each of them he raised a hand and dropped it

'_Do it'_ was the signal, and with almost perfect synchronicity, the Fighters dropped the guards.

For a moment, they flared into reality, but they were able to fade back into the ignorance field as the guards dropped.

They moved as quick as they dared to get back to Jack, who was beaming proudly.

The Master whirled when he heard the guards drop, and Martha's head shot up.

"What?!" the Master snarled, glaring around the room.

His eyes seemed to pause on the Doctor's form, before quickly moving on.

Anger at that moment was rampaging through the Doctor and his mind was totally blank

Jack gently put a hand on his shoulder, anchoring him to reality, reminding him of his duty and of his responsibility.

The Doctor's clouded mind cleared slightly and he felt that it was time to reveal their involvement.

His fingers found the key around his neck and with amazing ferocity, he ripped it off, allowing himself to slip into reality, in front of the Master.

Soulless black eyes locked with his, horror breaking out onto his face, mixing with fear and sudden anger.

"You!" he barked, fear strangling his voice slightly.

The Doctor couldn't resist a smug smile and spreading his arms out.

"Me" he confirmed.

Jack and the Resistance Fighters followed suit by revealing themselves, aiming their weapons at the Master, though the Doctor knew they would have little or not effect on him.

"Y-you can't be a-alive" the Master said, stammering.

"Ah, can't keep a good Time Lord down. Now…Master…I've been watching. I've watched as you destroyed the Earth in one of the cruellest ways possible…and I've had more than enough of it. It's over…you loose" the Doctor said, as he reached into the breast pocket of his suit.

He produced the Sonic Screwdriver which he held in the air and clicked the button.

Almost immediately his manipulated Toclafane appeared, floating delicately by the Doctor.

The Master, desperate as he suddenly was, called to it.

"My Child! Kill him! Kill the Doctor!" he cried, pointing at the elder Time Lord.

But of course, the Toclafane ignored the Master, much to his horror.

The Doctor waved a hand and the harnessed thought weapon activated and a panel slid back on the orb to reveal it's barrel.

"No!" the Master screamed.

The Doctor now glared at the Master, like he'd done to him a long time ago.

"Enough" he murmured, and the Toclafane released a bolt of electric blue energy, which sent the Master sprawling.

Instantly binging his mind in his body for a time.

Without another thought for the Master, the Doctor turned and ran to Martha.

She sat up, her eyes glued to him, her mouth slightly ajar as he knelt before her. His hands found her cheeks and he rested his forehead against hers, laughing slightly.

"Doctor?" she whispered hesitantly, her voice faint.

His eyes caught hers, so close together. He could see the tears welling in her eyes and the sudden joy that flooded her dark eyes. The very same eyes that made him feel like a hero.

Just as they were doing now.

"Yeah…it's me…it's the Doctor" he said breathlessly.

A slow smile spread across her beautiful face, pouring every emotion into it.

"…Doctor…I thought…you died" she murmured.

He smiled at her slyly, helping to reassure Martha.

"So did the Master...but I proved him wrong" he said.

Martha laughed, shaking her head against his.

Though he was practically living through the contact with her, the Doctor had to pull back to release her from the chains.

He smiled at her, before leaning back and taking the Sonic to the shackles. To his dismay, the skin beneath the metal bonds were raw and undoubtedly painfully as he removed the heavy metal.

Soon as the last shackle was removed, Martha flung her arms around his torso and rested her face against his neck. He pulled her in as he stood, bringing her up too.

He could feel her quaking with enormous sobs, uncontrollably and some how justified.

All he could do to soothe her was gently shush her, rubbing soothing circles on her back and murmuring over and over

"Its alright…shhhh…it's okay…I'm here now"

After a few moments, she regained control and drew back.

Jack chose this as a the best time to amble over, and he received a tight hug and many thankyous'.

Jack simply laughed.

"It's good to have you back Martha. I've missed you" he said.

They parted and the ex-Time Agent took his leave to examine the Master.

Martha turned back to the Doctor, gazing up at him.

He smiled sheepishly at her.

"I…I missed you too" he stammered awkwardly.

Martha smiled through her tears, tilting her head to one side.

"How much?" she teased.

The Doctor laughed aloud for the first time in over a year, a proper laugh.

Quickly, his arms wrapped around her in a bear hug.

"More than enough" he sighed happily, breathing in her scent.

With a sudden burst of energy, he picked her up and spun her around, enjoying her squeal of excitement and surprise.

He then set her down, but refused to let her go; he'd known that he's be happy and he knew he'd feel the need to show Martha some affection, but what he felt in the moment was altogether unique.

He was overcome with so many feelings, he wanted to dance and sing and shout and cry and laugh, and run across the stars with Martha until they could run no more. He wanted to find a place of deep seclusion, where they could lay together, staring up at the sky, with his fingers intertwined with hers.

He had this odd feeling, that eternally would not be long enough to live.

It came as a shock, as the oppressive feeling of living too long had suddenly been lifted.

But the moment of pure and unrestrained happiness did not last long as the Doctor would have hoped.

Someone started screaming incoherently, tearing the Doctor from his thoughts.

He pulled away from Martha, and looked towards the elevated area. A blonde member of the resistance was kneeling, a body in their arms as the others fled down the stairs.

"Doctor!! We have a massive problem" Jack cried, running towards him.

At first the Doctor did not understand, but then his eyes widened and panic rushed through his body.

The Master was clambering to his feet, a metal tube in his hand and a maddened gleam to his eyes.

Problem, _massive_ problem.

The Doctor spared a glance at the orb that he had once controlled. It lay on the floor, useless, drained of all energy.

Nothing more than a metal ball now.

He felt stupid for not enabling it to recharge.

Beside him, Martha gasped and covered her eyes.

A now crazed Master stood over one of the brother, the metal tube in his hand, pointed straight at the brother. The Doctor couldn't recall the names, but it didn't matter.

The Master's eyes lit up with a murderous light as he pressed a button on the tube.

A beam of yellowish light, shot from the end, slamming into the Resistance Fighter, who slumped forward; dead.

"What's that?!" the Doctor snarled as Jack and the two remaining members of the Resistance joined them.

"A laser screwdriver DOCTOR!! Who'd have Sonic?!" the Master screamed, waving the end of it in the direction of the small group.

It was obvious the Master was, at the moment, in a blind rage; the Doctor could see it.

His eyes wide and round, the way he bared his teeth like they were fangs, his sharp halting breathing.

It would require delicate psychology.

Slowly, the Doctor raised his hands and stepped towards the Master, drawing his attention.

"Okay…calm down" he said softly.

"DON'T YOU, OF ALL PEOPLE TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!!" the Master roared.

Seeing that even speaking to him aggravated him, the Doctor nodded, but kept moving forward at a steady pace, keeping his mouth shut.

But the Master was no fool, he observed the Doctor's movements, judging his actions, considered his options and chose one all in the space of a few seconds.

The barrel of the small and deadly tube shuddered, boarding on movement.

The Doctor mistook this signal as one of weakness.

He didn't realize the Master had set up an imaginary line, and if the Doctor crossed it, he'd pay dearly.

"…Come now…you don't want to kill anyone" the Doctor spoke softly, his words calming yet seemingly ineffective on the Master.

"Didn't I tell you to shut up? If you didn't get the message; SHUT UP!" the Master growled.

"Listen to me. This can end…right now. I can take you to the TARDIS…you could share it with me. You don't have to kill anymore…no one else has to die" the Doctor said, almost at the foot of the stairs.

When he looked up, to see the Master's ebony eyes glaring down at him, lit with some insane light that held a logical sequence, the Doctor felt his stomach drop.

"No. You're absolutely right Doctor…no one else has to die…I want them to" he spoke with such malice in his toxic voice, as his arm moved without his eyes shifting from the Doctor's.

The Doctor's eyes caught the movement of the button, pressed down, then that poison yellow light beamed from the tip of the laser screwdriver.

The Doctor suddenly went cold, when he realised what had happened.

In the end, she wasn't the one that screamed.

Jack was screaming for her.

* * *

**Yeah...about that...this is the part when I remind you all that you attract more bees with honey than with vinegar...so don't kill me and I'll stick up the next chapter soon.  
Tell, me...please.  
What do we think that Doctor will do...now that the Master has gone and done the unthinkable...  
Hehe...  
Enjoy, I'll update soon enough!  
**


	7. Falling

**BACK AGAIN!!**

**Thank you so much for all the reviews. I AM SO HAPPY!  
But anyway...moving on.  
Getting on with it...This is the seventh Chapter in this entire story, we're getting much closer to the end now. Maybe two Chapters left to go.  
I'm so sorry, but I just like a little bit of Ten Whump. Just a little bit...in every way that I can get it.  
Mind you, it's a bit obvious that I also LOVE Ten/Martha.  
This chapter is pretty much Ten/Martha.  
Read on and review!!**

**

* * *

**

CHAPTER 7: FALLING

The Doctor spun on his heel, in time to see Martha collapse.

Jack's arms shot out, catching her, screaming at the Master, who was laughing like a mad man.

The Doctor watched, a cold horror creeping through his body; he could swear his hearts had stopped.

Jack had lowered her to the ground, gazing at her still face, his own face a mixture of fear, sorrow and denial.

For a moment, the Doctor could not move, his feet disobeyed the screamed orders of both his mind and his hearts. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, and all he could see was Martha.

Then, the moment fled into the past, and he moved; darting quickly to her side.

He hit his knees, not bothering to register the pain from the jarring motion, he simply leaned over Martha, craning to see her face, to see her eyes.

But there was nothing.

Her eyes were not open, her face held no emotion.

"Here…you take her…" Jack's voice was torn with emotion, deeper and rougher than ever before as he gently lifted Martha into his arms.

He noticed immediately that she was a dead weight, that there was no strength in any of her muscles. Her head was resting against his chest as he let his legs fold into a more comfortable position.

He cradled her to him.

She was hurt.

Badly hurt.

Not gone.

_No_

_Never _gone.

All he needed to get her to do was wake up.

"…M-Martha?" he asked, not caring if he sounded so weak and vulnerable as he did.

Despite him calling her, she didn't move.

He blinked a few times, barely sparing a moment to wonder why everything was going blurry and why his throat ached so badly.

Gently, he shook her, trying to rouse her from her sleep.

"Martha?...Martha, wake up…" he pleaded; unintentionally whispering.

His voice felt broken, he couldn't manage to raise it any louder than it was.

He didn't care if he sounded desperate.

He was.

Beside him, very vaguely, he heard murmuring.

Like someone was speaking from a million light years away. Not loud enough or important enough to draw his attention from the sill face of his companion.

She was pale, turning _so _pale. Even showing through her darkish skin.

She was a very light brown, different from a lot of other people he had travelled with, but it never mattered to the Doctor.

He didn't register colour as a form of difference, nor was race a form of difference.

Not even species.

But for some reason, Martha had always felt like it mattered, like at any given moment she's loose all she had with the Doctor because she was a different colour.

In his eyes though, it had made her beautiful.

Even at the hospital, when she first spoke to him.

She'd been _beautiful_.

Not that it mattered either, Rose had been beautiful, Jack in his own way, himself, the TARDIS.

Everything had a radiating beauty.

Martha's had been more prominent, probably fuelled by the beauty of her developed mind.

Now, looking down on her, her body so still and heavy in his arms, she was as beautiful as ever.

"Martha…please…open your eyes…_please_...open your eyes" he begged, raising a hand to her face.

His fingers brushed ever so slightly over her cheek, and even through this slight contact, he felt the warmth fleeing from her skin.

He sat here, gently running his fingers over her face.

He felt something start to swell in side his chest, before it charged up his throat.

He released a hiccupping sob, his hearts quivering in the moments before shattering.

It had been so obvious, that he couldn't deny it. He'd known since first taking her in his arms.

He'd clung to the small hope that maybe his voice would reach her, that some how she had dodged and fallen in shock.  
Fainted.

That was the word.

But she hadn't been breathing.

He couldn't feel a heartbeat.

The radiating beauty that came from her was gone.

He's failed.

He'd failed fantastically.

Spectacularly even.

He'd sworn to protect her, not to loose her. For her not to end up like Rose.

No.

This was worse.

He could take no comfort from this as he could from Rose.

She was alive and well, with her family, living her life the way she should.

Martha wasn't.

She lay _dead_ in his arms.

Never to breathe the air, never to see the sky, never to live her life, get her degree, meet a man, become a wife, mother wonderful children; live a good, full and rich life.

He'd failed her, he'd failed himself, failed Jack, her family and everyone on Earth.

An innocent person was dead, because he'd met her.

He'd _failed._

Tears that blurred his vision now drenched his face, running free and unchecked.

A wretched sob of agony and loss and regret, broke from him and another and another.

It wasn't long before he was crying, sobbing uncontrollably, curled around Martha's body, his head rested under her chin, shaking his head and pleading for forgiveness.

Then came that voice.

That smug voice, that _enraging _voice.

"And you call yourself a Time Lord" The Master scoffed.

At first, the Doctor ignored the Master, concentrating solely on his grief and Martha. Yet, the Master persisted in tormenting.

"Such a pitiful, pathetic, weak creature, clinging to humans…you _kill_ them Doctor…don't you realise that? If you hadn't taken her, she might still be alive! It's all your fault…" the Master taunted.

It was then, that the Doctor's mind plunged into the darkness, his body filling with anger.

It had been the Master that had fired; shot her.

Killed her.

Slowly, he looked up at the Master, through the tears, glaring at him through eyes that betrayed his broken state.

Hate flowed freely.

The Master chuckled self assuredly, before holding up Jack's armlet with a smug smile and a shrug of the shoulders.

"Good luck in murdering the next one Doctor. Rassilion, knows this girl suffered enough." The Master said.

He intended to leave the conversation hanging, to let the words burn the Doctor's hearts for all eternity as he ran.

But the Doctor would not let this happen.

As the Master pressed the button, the Doctor let out a roar of primal rage and leapt at the Master, getting a hand to the device.

Effectively disappearing with the Master.

* * *

He landed hard on the rocky ground, smashing into the solid and unforgiving terrain.

It drove the air from the Doctor's lungs and with such force, he descended into a coughing fit.

Nearby, he heard gasps. Undoubtedly from the Master.

Slowly, the Doctor managed to look around and take in the surroundings as he clambered to his feet.

They had landed on a large cliff, with nothing but blackened rocks with small tufts of pale green grass straggling luridly across the jagged edges, bending awkwardly yet smoothly in the wind that must have been ever present.

On either side, the cliff dropped away to form a sort of ridge. One side led away in a steep decline, giving way to endless fields of pale green grass.

On the other side, the cliff became a sheer drop, perhaps 250 feet down, into another great field occupied by hundreds and hundreds of missiles, steaming and hissing.

Aimed at the sky.

It inspired even greater rage in the Doctor as he turned to the Master.

Those black eyes regarded him, almost measuring him in someway, and giving the Doctor's fury, he took offence.

"You killed her" he breathed, his teeth bared as he contemplated how to tear the Master limb from limb.

"Wrong…you killed…" the Master began in that self assured tone.

"I DIDN'T KILL HER. YOU DID" The Doctor roared and the Master's voice faltered into silence.

For a moment, nothing but the wind and the grass moved.

The Master saw the rage of the ancient Time Lord, the burning fire raging in his eyes

And now they were alone.

So alone upon the ridge, the last two Time Lords that existed.

With a sudden blur of movement, the Master revealed the laser screwdriver, instantly met by the Sonic Screwdriver in the Doctor's hand.

The Doctor felt oddly calm, standing facing death, facing the very instrument hat had taken Martha's life.

A cackle of maddened glee erupted from the Master, and he actually smiled.

"You want to pitch the Sonic against the Laser?" he laughed.

Yet the Doctor was not in the mood to chat about idle matters.

With the click of a button, sonic soundwaves battered into the intricate, delicate workings of the Laser Screwdriver that the Master held, smoke and sparks crackled from it, and with a sudden cry of dismay, he threw the now broken device over the edge of the cliff in disgust.

He turned as the Doctor deposited the Sonic back into the inner pocket of his jacket, and again they stood facing each other, each silently daring the other to make a move against him.

"…There's no regeneration…neither of us are linked to the TARDIS" the Master said, voicing some part of a conversation that he was having in his head.

"I know" The Doctor deadpanned.

It seemed to concern the Master that the Doctor sounded and appeared emotionless.

His face was blank, perhaps his mouth set in a sort of grim line, but there was nothing more.

His eyes however, were telling.

Raging fires smouldered restlessly in his dark brown eyes; such anger and hate and torment that did not reach his face.

The Master grew fearful; the Doctor simply stood there, his only movements were that of the wind tousling his hair and pulling relentlessly at his long tan overcoat.

Other than that, which could not even be classed as physical movement; he was still.

Then, in a movement bourn of sheer madness and certain folly, the Master charged to meet the Doctor head one, to hopefully slam into him and crush him against the jagged rocks.

There would only be one Time Lord leaving the cliff, and the Master was determined for it to be him.

* * *

The Valiant was so very silent. The silence wasn't normal either.

It was oppressive.

A dead silence.

One that made Jack so restless.

He'd busied himself at first by checking the guards that they had knocked out at the beginning of the _'plan'_, then dragging them into a room and locking them in.

It suddenly struck him as he pressed the numbers on the keypad to lock the door, that in no way, had their plan worked.

Everything had gone so wrong.

As it ended up, both Michael and Brett were dead, the world still in ruins, the Master and the Doctor in some place, perhaps both dead now, and Martha had been killed.

The thought, the mere thought of her death brought a fresh wave of tears to his eyes.

He glanced at her, before shaking his head.

Jack couldn't remove the image in his mind; the Doctor slumped over her. His thin frame trembling as he wept, and the horrible knowledge that nothing the Jack could ever say or do, would make any of it the slightest bit better.

The Doctor had sounded like a child, tentatively calling to Martha, like a lost child calling for their mother. Before they realised that they had lost the hand that they so desperately cling to.

Identical to the Doctor's reaction.

At first, he was hesitative, unsure, calling her name so very quietly. He grew bolder, requesting her consciousness.

Then came the begging, the heartbreaking sound of the Doctor, an ancient being, revered as a god in many cultures, pleading. He'd sought a physical connection, but none could be established.

Martha wasn't there anymore.

And finally, he broke, under it all, he simply broke. Like any human would. Folding in on himself and crying.

Jack could still see the tears in his eyes, hear the tremor in his voice, feel his hearts ripping into a million pieces; the reaction of the Doctor burned into his mind.

"Jack"

The Ex-Time Agent looked up to find Ricky at the top of the stairs.

He and Adam had gone to tend to the brothers, but as Jack had found with Martha, there was nothing to tend to.

Death was the finality.

They were gone.

"Orders?" Ricky asked, feebly almost.

It almost made Jack laugh aloud at the irony.

Some people cling to the memories of those that passed, like Jack.

Some were eager to escape them, like Ricky.

"None to give" Jack sighed.

As he turned away, a sudden memory flooded Jack's mind.

He could recall, so vividly the feelings and intentions he had for the Mater almost a year ago. He'd been so eager, so ready, to put a bullet into the Master's skull, just to kill him.

It finally dawned on him why the Doctor had said he wasn't ready.

The thought had dogged his mind, dominated most of his thoughts while travelling, but he'd never been able to put his finger on what the Doctor saw, and Jack didn't.

It had been the lack of conscious thought.

The Master was a Time Lord, and no doubt did the Doctor want to exhaust all options before resorting to murder.

And if he had Jack chomping at the bit to take his head off, there was no possibly way that the Doctor could exhaust these options.

Jack would have been a liability, rather than an asset.

"Didn't amount to much" Jack whispered as he leaned back against the glass table.

In his eyes everything failed.

Their main objective had been to rid the world of the Toclafane, capture the Master and save Martha.

Yet in reality, the Toclafane still infested the world like metal rats with urges to kill, the Master had escaped, regardless of the Doctor going with him, soon as they landed, the Master would have shot him with the Laser Screwdriver anyway and with no connection to the TARDIS he could not regenerate.

And Martha had been killed rather than saved and on top of all that, they'd lost Michael, Brett and the Doctor most likely.

One of the most unsuccessful missions Jack had ever embarked upon, including World War One, World War Two, his time spent at the Time Agency, his time as a coward/conman, his time with the Doctor AND his time at Torchwood.

That was saying a lot.

Everything seemed to fall silent again, even the quiet murmuring of Ricky and Adam.

It was almost complete again, the type of silence that one sits down and remembers in, that you travel to days long since passed.

Sitting under the shade of a large tree upon the bank of a river on a lazy summer's day, listening comfortably to the gurgling of the river as you dozed.

Jack sat against the table, his mind lost in it's countless memories.

_He was charging down a rocky slope, in the dark, the cold biting at his face with his heavy backpack bouncing in time with his steps. Ahead of him, he could just make out the form of the Doctor, racing ahead of him, his long tan overcoat streaming behind him as he moved with all the grace and speed of a cheetah. _

_Behind him, he heard Martha's breathing, her heavy footsteps as she ran in boots with high heels. He imagined that it took some skill, to run on high heels over a rocky terrain at this speed. _

_Exhilaration ran thought him and he cackled momentarily. _

_This was living. _

_He didn't know how he'd lived without this rush for so long. _

But he was suddenly drawn from his memories of recent events with a faint whining noise very faint, so faint in fact that it wouldn't have been audible if someone was talking.

In the silence though, it was quite loud.

As he looked up, he noticed a section of space quivering abnormally.

Then it hit him.

Someone was coming back using his armlet.

Perhaps both of the Master and the Doctor were returning, though Jack some how doubted it.

Bracing himself for the worst, he slipped off the table, backing away from the entry point.

The Time Vortex opened, ripping apart reality and an outline of a figure appeared.

Jack squinted, trying to peer deeper into the Vortex.

But he couldn't make out who it was.

* * *

**And another cliffie. This one is a little worse than the other.  
Mind you...I hope you liked it.  
I would LOVE it if you reviewed.  
Please?  
By the way, if you have't figured it out. The italics are Jack's memories. **


	8. The Darkness

**Right.  
We might have a little problem after this chapter, which is unfortunate for you...cause this could be interpreted as another cliff hanger...but I'll tell you now, it ISN'T.  
Cause I got a new computer the other day, and it doesn't have Microsoft Word on it, so I might have a little trouble posting until we find the money to get word on the computer. **

**Oh well...  
I watched part of the Unicorn and the Wasp on YouTube, the part where the Doctor gets poisoned.  
Isn't it funny! But kinda scary...well...I suppose I like it cause even though it is funny...I love Ten Whump.  
Which...is kinda obvious in this story.  
**

**By the way, thank you so, so, so much for the reviews, one and all. But believe me when I say that it isn't over yet okay? Keep on reading. I'll update when I can. It might be very soon, or could be very later...I dunno.  
Wait and see!!**

**CHAPTER 8: THE DARKNESS**

* * *

Jack peered warily at the Time Vortex as it opened.

Tendrils of deadly time energy clawed at the air, seeming almost to be alive. As the Vortex tested the world around it, a figure appeared, standing amongst the energy as if he had a place among it, as if he had dominion over the Vortex.

And in a way, he did.

The energy seemed to embrace him, long tendrils curling around his long arms, dancing across his body almost lovingly.

It passed around him, rolling over him, coursed through him and still he stood.

The Doctor stood, his eyes closed as he embraced the Vortex itself for reasons well beyond Jack's comprehension.

After what felt like hours, the Vortex shimmered, wavering before closing upon itself, disappearing with a very slight hum, leaving the Doctor standing aboard the Valiant.

Questions flooded Jack's mind, a slow smile of relief replacing the wariness and shock that had once been in every corner of his mind.

Perhaps the missions wasn't such a failure...well it was, but there was one less dead on their side.

"Doctor...I thought...oh...god..." Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair as he shook his head in disbelief.

Almost immediately after his original movement, Jack froze.

He heard something, something out of place in such a pristine metal ship. A faint splatter, as if something was hitting the floor, some small amount of liquid falling from somewhere and shattering into a flat form upon the smooth floor of the Valiant's bridge.

Jack's eyes scanned the room, but snagged upon the Doctor, who still stood in the same spot as he had before.

Frozen.

Suddenly, Jack felt sick, physically. He could feel his stomach rebelling and the meagre amount of food that he had eaten pushing up his throat.

The right sleeve of the Doctor's long tan overcoat was torn, but was also stained darkly by some unseen gash.

The stain was large, warranting a rather large wound but blood not only stained the fabric, but had tracked down his slender hand, along his delicate fingers and dripped steadily onto the floor, already making a small pool.

The Doctor himself was rather pale, which Jack found to be evidence of great pain and even worse; blood loss.

Slowly, his eyes cracked open and he focused on Jack.

A smile came to his bloody lips, a delusional smile that could not be thought out, or bourn of real emotion.

Nothing could create a smile such as that, other than light headedness.

From blood loss.

"You're alive then..." the Doctor murmured, his entire body suddenly swaying unsteadily.

Jack moved, darting forward, toward the Doctor.

It proved to be a wise move as without too much warning, the Time Lord's long legs folded like paper under his weight.

Arms shot out and caught him gently; Jack shifted his grip on the Doctor, before picking him up.

The first place in mind to put the Doctor was the chair, as if he lay him out, his body would have more opportunity and it would be much more convenient for him to pass out.

By instinct, Jack could tell he was still conscious and hopefully his normal self.

Gently, very gently he lowered the Doctor into the nearest chair, cringing as the Doctor moaned in pain.

What had happened to the Time Lord, he could only guess, but seeing as a few blatant factors stood starkly out at him, he couldn't help but deduce that the Time Lords had fought to the death.

The Master had not returned, therefore was dead, but by the appearance of things, the Master had not lost by a great margin.

In fact, the battle still could end in a draw, despite the Master dying outright, the Doctor seemed very much in danger of dying from his wounds.

Not that Jack would let that pass without some sort of action.

He clamped his hands firmly on the Doctor's shoulders, hoping that he'd open his eyes and give Jack some command or some wry remark, some hint that he'd be okay.

Mercifully, the Doctor's eyes fluttered open and caught Jack's.

This time, no dizzy grin came, only a grimace of pain.

Another smaller moan left the Doctor as his left hand clutched with sudden desperation at his right side.

"Doctor!" Jack said, intending to bring his eyes back to Jack's so they could talk.

Ancient, darkened eyes, drowning in pain returned to him and he saw the same pain he had a year ago, that same pain that emanated from the gunshot wound.

But this time, there was no weakness.

"Get me up" the Doctor hissed, through gritted teeth.

Jack hesitated, not wanting to cause more any more pain to the Doctor. However, this good natured hesitation seemed to infuriate the Doctor.

"Now...Jack" he breathed heavily.

"Okay. Let me go and get Adam to help" Jack said, and was just about to call the Resistance Fighter when the Doctor's left hand, coated in a thick layer of blood gripped his arm.

"...No...Just us...no one else..." he seemed only to be able to speak on the tail ends of breathing.

The agony must have been horrendous for the old Time Lord. Yet Jack reminded himself that _'old'_ meant powerful.

Despite not understanding, he obeyed by kneeling beside him and dragging the Doctor's left arm around him.

His right arm seemed too damaged to move or be moved, so he gently and smoothly stood up.

The grimace of pain deepened on the Doctor's face as he was moved and a few whimpers were desperately held in his mouth as he clamped his mouth shut.

Jack felt so sorry for the Doctor, he felt terrible for him. Such pain radiated from him, his body itself was weak, but his mind and will were still strong.

He simply refused to give in; he was going to carry out a plan that only he knew, even if it killed him.

"Here we go." Jack murmured, and slowly took a step forward.

The Doctor followed suit, very barely able to contain a scream of pain as he put weight on his leg.

Jack paused, waiting for a prompt from his friend.

"...Go" he breathed lowly, raggedly, in a voice ravaged by pain.

They took a few more steps, before the Doctor stopped.

He made no noise, no sudden weight pulled down on Jack's right; the Doctor just stopped.

He was about to ask what was wrong but he caught sight of the Doctor's face.

Jaw still clenched tightly, face still contorted in pain, but it was a different type of pain that was now blended with that of the physical origins.

His head was turned slightly away from Jack, and by following his line of sight, he found that the Doctor had caught sight of Martha's body on the floor.

"Doctor..." Jack said gently.

Tears seemed to well in the Doctor's eyes as he gazed at her body, so small and still; but they did not fall.

Nor did he seem to hear anything that was said to him.

"Doctor...we gotta move" Jack whispered, jostling him slightly to gain attention.

Raising his head, the Doctor slowly nodded, not taking his eyes from her.

He seemed transfixed, even as Jack began to move again, he got the feeling that the Doctor didn't want to leave her, for loyalty reasons maybe. Or perhaps something much deeper.

Something much more personal.

Only when they left the room, did Jack feel the Doctor step with conviction again.

* * *

Everything burnt.

Every movement, no matter how smooth Jack tried to make it, was jarring.

It took all the Doctor had not to scream and curl up into a ball and die right there.

But he couldn't, he had a job to finish, then and only then could he embrace the darkness that roared up to meet him with every step.

He could feel the blood still pumping from the gash in his arm and down his right side, that warm sticky feeling against the undamaged skin, the way it clung to his clothes, making them heavy and more of a burden.

Occasionally, Jack would murmur something, words of comfort, of encouragement and even though the Doctor couldn't hear them, he acknowledged that h wasn't alone in his struggle.

He couldn't muster much more than a feeble half smile to his lips that only lasted until the next wave of pain hit him, then it took time to replace it. Most of the Doctor's concentration was on his hearts and lungs.

He maintained a slow and steady heartbeat, to try and help minimise the loss of blood and to control his breathing so his lungs did not expand to a point of pain.

What little was left of his concentration, he put into walking, keeping his legs going and keeping his eyes open.

If they closed, he knew that he would not have the strength to open them again.

Thankfully, his kept his mind off what he had lost that day.

And even if his body didn't need such attention, there was a slight telepathic pull on his mind, channelling any spare thoughts into directions.

The TARDIS was pulling, the TARDIS was calling to him, her pain was mingling with his.

She could offer no strength to him, even though he reached out to her; she was weak, sick.

The Master had done something to her.

If his mind had not been foggy and occupied, he could have remembered the paradox, he would have logically come to the conclusion of the paradox machine.

It wasn't essentially important to the Doctor at the moment, all that was important was getting there, and that was all.

The Doctor managed, to his vague surprise to maintain the delicately balanced cycle, without much more than a whimper whenever Captain Jack went a little too fast, or made a movement too strenuous.

It would end in a strong of apologies from Jack, who sounded terrified.

Maybe he had every right to be, he couldn't have looked too attractive in this state.

Everything ached, burned, stung and generally hurt, some to more extreme variations like his side; his arm had gone numb, others were a dull throb, like his leg and his left wrist.

It was impossible for his to even tell where a specific injury was, and just how badly hurt he was, much, much more than the gunshot wound and that had been fatal; so therefore his 10th incarnation would be coming to an end.

Perhaps it was his last. If the TARDIS was as weak as it was, then an energy connection to help stabilize his regeneration process could not be established, and he would die.

For some reason, that didn't scare him, and he didn't feel strong enough to question why.

The vaguest of vague thoughts drifted in and out of his head, time seemed to fluctuate as he lost track of the basic Gallifreyean senses.

It felt like he'd been walking for years, like the TARDIS was playing a game of 'catch me if you can'.

He just couldn't do it, he had no energy left.

"...Jack" he managed to speak upon a breath.

"I know what you're going to say...and I'm telling you to keep it to yourself. Where's the TARDIS? Can you feel it?" Jack's voice rang with authority; a tone to commanding that the Doctor was almost tempted into obeying.

He reached into his mind, feeling for the connection, for the subtle edge among his thoughts and memories.

Yet his mind was wavering, energy deficient. It felt like a pebble had been dropped through his head and the ripples were constantly disturbing his search.

Unconsciously, he slumped against Jack, shaking his head wearily.

"...I can't...find it" he panted, his eyes lids growing so heavy.

A little nap couldn't hurt, just a rest. To get his strength back. So they could continue on, defeat the Toclafane, and reverse the horrible events that took place.

He rested his head heavily on Jack's shoulder, allowing himself to sink into the darkness, feeling the peace and the relief.

Suddenly, the darkness fled and he felt himself being bounced a little; a stern voice breaking into clarity.

"Don't you dare Doctor! You wake up; you will stay awake until this is over! Understand?" he sounded like the President of Gallifrey, a booming voice that commanded such respect and obedience.

Yet it was only Jack.

Captain Jack Harkness, good friend; close friend.

He growled angrily at himself, berating himself for giving in.

As his mind re-established itself, so did the link with the TARDIS.

It was so close, so very, very close.

"Up...left" he said softly.

Jack nodded, and hauled him to his feet again, before moving on.

Trying his level best to keep up with Jack's fast pace proved too much, so he conserved the small amount of energy left, preparing himself to pilot the TARDIS.

He hoped to the high god Rassilion that it would be a smooth flight; that she would behave.

Undoubtedly, Jack would need to help, he would have to use the pumps and spin the wheels and stretch desperately for a lever while holding down an important button.

"Doctor! Look!" Jack's voice returned to normal, no longer commanding and strict, but simply Jack.

Slowly, the Doctor managed to raise his head, lifting his eyes, to see, standing before him: Home.

That passive blue box, with glowing windows and signage.

The relief and happiness of seeing home for the first time in a year, over took the pain as the most prominent sensation for a moment in his body.

Jack laughed and hurriedly dragged the Doctor over to it.

As Jack struggled for his key, the Time Lord slowly reached out, with his left hand he'd untangled from Jack's aid.

Gently, his bloody fingers probed the surface, leaving smudges of dark colour on the blue wood.

"Home..." he breathed as Jack fitted the key into the lock.

It turned, and Jack caught the Doctor's arm again, slinging it back around his shoulder before entering the TARDIS.

Pain, a burning pain suddenly burst into the Doctor's mind as they passed over the threshold into the Time Capsule.

A ragged, pitiful scream tore from his lips, and his weak body trembled.

"Doctor!" Jack cried, unsure of what to be more concerned about.

The sudden and violent reaction of the Doctor, or the TARDIS.

Despite the agony burning through his head, the Doctor took in the situation.

A blood red light tainted the air, reflecting slightly off the mist that hung about without much evident movement.

A black cage, meshed around the console, around the Time Rotor, blinking lights winking out at him.

Wires were strewn everywhere, haphazardly thrown in the insane glee of the now deceased Master.

"What's this? What has he done?! What has the lunatic DONE!!" Jack screamed, as passionate about it as the Doctor would have been, had his sense not reacted so sharply to the paradox machine.

Slowly with much effort, he pushed the pain back far enough for coherent speech.

His body had seized up, and now was beyond his reach.

It was down to Jack.

"...Paradox machine...Jack...listen. You have to...dismantle it...get rid of it...turn it off...I can't do anything...with it on" he gasped.

Jack's ice blue eyes shone in the redness, but seemed to gleam with worry.

"Can't you?" he asked.

It was a dumb question, but the Doctor did not have the strength to scream at Jack, all he could do was shake his head, as the pain had intensified to a point where talking was not possible.

But Jack was dutiful.

A loyal soldier to the Doctor.

He gently sat him against the doors, before charging off and examining the paradox machine. If things weren't so desperate, Jack would have loved the idea of tinkering with the TARDIS.

He always had.

As he was busy, the Doctor struggled against the pain in his head and in his body.

It felt like he was slowly suffocating, slowly losing the battle.

He felt the TARDIS whimper for him, and reach for his mind to soothe him, but her every touch was agony.

It took a lot of what he had left to keep her out, to stop her.

She knew why and she whimpered again, this time an apology.

The Doctor couldn't answer her; the effort to reach out and mentally connect to the TARDIS would almost surely kill him now.

All he could do was cling to life, dipping in and out of coherency.

There were times when he glimpsed Jack running around, climbing inside the meshing over the Time Rotor, other times he saw him sitting on the floor with the Extrapolator in his lap, fiddling with it.

Though he was never coherent long enough to gather if Jack was any closer to mending the TARDIS.

Time passed; the Doctor had no clue how long, but there was a sudden cry and the TARDIS seemed to roar back into life.

A soft blue light shone clear in his head, the pain fading away, ebbing away with the last scraps of his strength.

The darkness was coming now; he could feel it, unstoppable.

No, he wasn't going to fight it; he didn't have the power or the mind to.

Instead, he let his eyes slide shut, releasing his control over his hearts and lungs.

The TARDIS was inside him, vainly trying to fill him with her life energy, her strength.

But he was too far gone.

The connection could not be established in time; they both knew it.

She squealed inside his head, but he shushed her and spoke these final words to his beloved TARDIS.

_"Back. Before the paradox. Everything...back"_

Then, the black inky darkness of what the Doctor could only guess to be death surrounded him, engulfed him and he let it.

Without a fight

* * *

**Like I said, NO CLIFF HANGER!!  
Okay...so I'll admit I'm a little evil...but I don't like to use that word, just twisted.  
I'll put the funeral in the next chapter hey?  
Or do you wanna know what happened on that cliff between the Doctor and the Master?  
By the way, let me clear this up in this one, the TARDIS is the eye of the storm, NOT THE VALIANT.  
Is that clear? I hope it is...cause that means...well...that would be telling wouldn't it and I couldn't do that.  
You'll have to wait and see.  
I'll try my best to update sooner rather than later.  
Review and you know...maybe the Unicorn won't steal your stuff and you won't get killed by a massive Wasp with a lead pipe!**

* * *


	9. The Finale

**Regardless of what you wanted, this is what you get. The ending has been post-poned!  
But, relax.  
Not for long. I am typing it up now.  
Tell me...who do you think will give the best Eulogy at the Doctor's funeral?!  
Jack, Martha? Maybe Tish who secretly really, REALLY liked him?  
man...funny.  
Ahh...this chapter is officially dedicated to _blancmange_, you're review made me really happy.  
Thank you all so SO much for the reviews.  
Last stretch here.  
Let's get cracking!**

* * *

CHAPTER 9: THE FINALE

The wind roared into a storm, racing across the fields, tugging at the grass that sprouted from the black rocks of the cliff. It charged around the two figures upon the jagged rocks, throwing them off balance.

It didn't help either the Master or the Doctor, but neither could pay attention.

The final two Time Lords grappled, straining against the other, trying desperately to gain some sort of advantage; an upper hand.

But it was the battle of the Unstoppable Force against the Immovable Object.

Every now and then, they managed to throw the other onto a nasty rock that bruised or split tender flesh, or broke important bones.

Currently, their hands were locked, the Master trying to push the Doctor back a few steps, where hopefully he would lose his footing and fall over the edge of the cliff.

It was no secret that both of them were weakened significantly.

Despite struggling to muster enough strength to push him; the Master couldn't find it, and the Doctor seemed to be preparing for a retaliatory push.

At this moment, he didn't feel strong enough to be able to withstand another onslaught from the enemy.

His mind speedily sorted through his current options, before selecting one.

His foot almost moved before his body ordered it to, lashing out and slamming hard into the Doctor's leg.

With a grunt, his balance shifted as his leg buckled, giving the Master a momentary advantage.

He untangled his hand from the grapple formed a fist and slammed it into the Doctor's torso as hard as he could.

Almost instantly, the Doctor let him go, staggering back, his left hand over the area that had been damaged.

Then, in a movement all too quick, the hell of the elder Time Lord caught on a rock and he fell.

Such joy raced through the Master, his eyes widening with delight as the Doctor landed heavily on a set of jagged, obsidian rocks.

It sliced through his right arm quickly and deeply, spilling blood, but the rocks had more to prove as a combination of the Doctor's body weight, gravity and the sharpness of the rock would soon demonstrate.

The sharp ridge of obsidian, stabbed deeply into the Doctor's side, blood instantly pouring forth.

A scream of sheer agony tore from the wounded Time Lord, his back aching in pain as he desperately clawed at the air, searching vainly for something to clasp on to, to pull himself away from the rocks.

Slowly, the long echoing scream petered out into a desperate gasp for air, as his body settled back upon the rocks.

His face had gone paper white, his eyes were pinched shut, as he whimpered and gasped upon the cliff against the pain.

Sadistic humour broke into a smirk from the Master, the thought of defeating the Doctor in one of the bloodiest ways possible appealed to him.

"And that! Was for my laser screwdriver!" the Master laughed, leaning over the Doctor's prone form.

It pleased him greatly to hear the Doctor cough; pleased him greatly to see the blood speckle his pale lips.

Truly defeated, dying, suffering, in agony.

A shiver of delight ran up the Master's spine.

He'd dreamt of this day, but it was more graphic in reality.

"You weren't as tough as I thought, Doctor...perhaps those nine hundred and twenty five lo-ng years have made you weak." The Master said, kneeling by the Time Lord.

He watched the Doctor's face carefully, hoping that he would open his eyes.

If he was the last thing that the Doctor ever saw, as his eyes turned glassy and his mind fell into oblivion, the Master would almost be certain that this was all a dream.

Reality couldn't ever be so good.

But as was the norm, the Doctor did his utmost best to spoil it; his eyes remained closed, tightly.

"Awww...come on...be fair...I beat you...how about you open your eyes...take a look at me huh? Come on..." the Master said childishly as he leaned a little closer.

There was no response from the Doctor, almost like he was purposely ignoring him, waiting to die, but starving the Master of any satisfaction in the kill.

Yet, the Doctor always seemed to underestimate him; the Master was clever.

"Well...seeing as the _'almighty'_ Doctor has been defeated...I can do what I please. Now what can I do...oh! I've got it! Killing Martha was fun wasn't it? How about I go and have another crack at it? Make her scream this time, die with your name on her lips" the Master taunted.

This got the desired effect and then some.

The Doctor's eyes struggled open, to reveal pain soaked iris', suddenly full of anger.

His lips quivered as he slowly formed words.

"...Don't...touch her...Don't you dare..." the Doctor breathed; glaring acidly up at his arch enemy.

"You can't demand things. You're the one that's dying!" The Master laughed.

To the Master's surprise, the Doctor began to move.

Slowly, he sat up, bordering on screaming as he pulled himself off the rocks that had gouged into his side.

Eagerly the Master watched the blood soak the material of his suit and stain his tan overcoat. The wound must have been massive, if not fatal.

But, as he watched, the Doctor slowly made his feet, staggering unsteadily, before hunching forward and to the right slightly as his left arm curled protectively around himself.

He then stood there, short of breath, eyes wide and glazed with thick agony.

The Master stood too, all his own wounds forgotten.

He felt renewed seeing the Doctor in such a hampered state.

"You're dying" The Master said, enjoying the feeling of the words in his mouth.

There was a vague nod from his enemy.

"...Let me take it easy on you. I'll chuck you over the cliff...eh?" The Master suggested, unable to help feeling the slightest bit sorry for his former friend.

But a flash of anger passed through the Doctor's eyes and he shook his head.

_No._

With a sigh, the Master shook his own head ruefully and turned his back to the cliff and the Doctor, wandering away.

"I try to show you some compassion. I try to show you some mercy...and you throw it back in my _face_!! You ungrateful Gallifreyean!" The Master snarled.

"...I am a Time Lord; nothing about my death should be easy. Being thrown off a cliff by you...there is no mercy in throwing me off a cliff." The Doctor said between gasps of air.

Anger flooded through the Master's mind.

How dare this ancient, dusty fool speak to him in such a derogatory manor?

He was _dying!_

There had been a battle and he had lost, but refused to lay down and die!

The Doctor had no right to treat him like a simple Gallifreyean.

He was a TIME LORD!

He had graduated just the same as the Doctor had. He had stood and looked into the Untempered Schism, whereas the Doctor had _run!_

Such anger and hated; the Doctor could not be alive any longer.

Every moment he lived, every breath he drew was an insult to the Master.

With that thought, he stopped his wandering. Then turned abruptly and charged.

He ran, straight at the Doctor.

If he would not be thrown off the cliff, he would be battered from it.

As the master covered the ground between them, the Doctor fell to one knee, his strength failing him.

Yet still the Master charged.

The Doctor would go over the cliff in one way or another.

But just as he got to him, just as he made to place his hands against his side to throw him off balance and use the momentum to push him off, the Doctor ducked a little further.

This made the Master's hands slide over his back.

With nothing to stop him, the Master continued forward for a second, then, the Doctor stood, pushing himself up, using the Master's own momentum to launch him into the air and over the edge of the cliff.

For a moment, he was in shock, unbelieving that the Doctor had out witted him, before he shook his head.

Glancing at his wrist, he cursed himself.

The Vortex Manipulator he'd stolen from that Captain Jack was lying up on the cliff with the Doctor.

_Fantastic_.

That Time Lord would be able to travel back o their time, back to his masterpiece, and attempt to stop it.

To ruin it, as usual.

Maybe, with some luck, he would be far too weak to dismantle the paradox machine and would die.

It was his only hope of taking the Doctor with him.

But then again, he'd never know.

As the ground became infinitely bigger and he rushed to meet it; the Master cursed the Doctor one final time.

Then, darkness.

* * *

**Next stop, the Doctor's funeral!  
Should I cut the gag now?  
Nah, keep you hanging there.  
Just a little AN thing, the Master is NOT coming back to life.  
Wanna know why?  
Cause, in MY stories, when a Time Lord dies, they die for good. No second chances.  
I mean after 13th regeneration. They exist outside time almost.  
Okiday?  
Good.  
A little bit short, but this was just a little thing that you shoulda seen.  
Cause let's face it, it woulda been a rip off if you didn't know what happened to the Master.  
See you VERY soon.  
Remember, get the review buttons ready.  
Next time, last chance!!**


	10. Angel in the Darkness

**So...this is it.  
Last Chapter.  
Not thinking about writing an epilogue, as there doesn't seem to be anything that needs to be written.  
Final Chapter...read on about the 'Funeral'  
Hope you enjoyed it all.  
I have loved typing this up and reading all your reviews, I wanna send out BIG hugs!  
Please...read on!  
Oh!  
Tell me if there should be a sequal, I'm not sure but I'm not thinking of it.  
Suggestions are always welcome!  
Read on, cause this is ur last chance!**

* * *

CHAPTER 10: ANGEL IN THE DARKNESS

Darkness.

Darkness that seemed to stretch on for an eternity.

There was no feeling to it, but there never seemed to be enough room.

It was stuffy and cold and dark.

A small shiver of fear caressed the Doctor's spine slyly.

The prospect of death being nothing more than this endless darkness, terrified him.

Laying amongst the eternal shadows for the rest of time; his mind locked away, nestled deeply in the darkness with no hope of light; was not what the Doctor had imagined death to be.

He thought that there would be peace, where an ancient Time Lord who'd suffered for near on a thousand years could relax, could rest, never to worry about anything again.

This place, whatever it was, was not peaceful.

One thing was for certain though.

After actually completing the process of dying, he was sure that there was not meant to be any pain.

Over the time he'd spent contemplating death and what it was, a dull ache had begun to grow, covering his entire body; like he'd been physically beaten.

Then, shortly after recognizing the pain, came the noise.

So soft at first, so very, very faint; like it had to travel a thousand miles for him to hear it.

He couldn't make out what it was, but slowly, it got louder and closer and he could pick it up.

A melody.

Someone was humming a most angelic tune, soft and calm and peaceful.

In his mind, he followed, unsure why but he felt a deep need to get to the source of the melody, so he could listen to it, so he could allow the feeling of ethereal calm to engulf his entire being.

Amidst the humming, soft words were murmured.

It reminded him or a young girl, too shy to sing to people despite harbouring a mystical voice.

Finally, it occurred to him, like an epiphany trigged by the singing.

He was still alive.

Physical feeling and awareness was trickling back into his mind and the darkness was retreating

The singing however, suddenly stopped.

He was only just conscious enough to recognize the heat and softness of a human hand on his forehead.

A softness that he had only once felt before, that only one person possessed.

Miss Martha Jones.

His dual hearts swelled with relief and happiness and his mind pressed against the slowly advancing wall of consciousness.

So, after all this, his brilliant plan had worked.

Better than he expected too!

He was still among the living and he was returning to the waking world.

Not only was he still alive, from the familiar feeling of the lean frame; he had not regenerated.

Better and better.

Yet, as it always was with the Doctor, his happiness had its limits.

The good feelings always left in a hurry.

That soft, warm hand of Martha Jones, the sensation of being gently soothed abruptly abandoned him.

Martha was gone.

His mind, sensing her going, commanded him to speak, commanded his body to writhe slightly.

Just so her attention would return and her hand would slide back onto his forehead.

But it was gone and his body resisted.

Physical awareness had peaked, returning to normal levels after an eternity.

The dull ache he had felt earlier was present, spanning every limb; legs, arms, torso, and head.

Control edged its way back into his mind and before too long, he was completely conscious.

From what he could gather of his current status, he was on his back, flat out in a soft bed, with the covers pulled up over him and his head rested on a multitude of downy pillows.

With extra caution, the Doctor cracked open an eyes, but slammed it shut at the sudden harsh light.

After the initial shock, he tried again, squinting as he opened his eyes to observe the room around him.

A light was placed directly above the bed; briefly causing the Doctor to wonder if the bed was in an optimum place for rest with such a bright bulb over head.

But his focus switched to the entire room, taking in his surroundings.

It wasn't a particularly large or extravagant room, just a plain room with cream coloured walls, cream ceiling, a wardrobe, a dresser, a desk, a mirror, the large bed and a window.

It wasn't very personalized, therefore he came to the conclusion that he was not a permanent fixture here and neither was anyone else.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the white door, slightly ajar.

Careful not to turn his head, as he sensed that the stiffness was a masking for pain; he focused on the outside, further into the house.

A television was going, some movie; the Doctor mused as he heard gun fire.

There were also two people rather close, talking.

A female, with an older voice using a reprimanding tone with a slight hint of concern.

"...Passing your exams is a priority! But you haven't slept a wink, and I'll wager that you haven't even picked up a medical text book to glance at! How do you expect to become a doctor if you're tests are tomorrow and you're acting like this?"

Then, another female voice, younger with a stubborn tone.

"I'm not going tomorrow. I've got to look after the Doctor"

_That_ was Martha.

So, the Doctor now had undeniable evidence that his plan had worked.

She was alive.

He couldn't help but let a small smile of self-satisfaction spread across his face.

He had every right to be smug and to bask in the glory of a job well done.

Yet, sudden footsteps caused his smile to slip, as they were approaching the room.

They were heavy steps, not Martha's as he could still hear her arguing with the other woman; who he'd figured to be Francine, her mother.

The door opened and the Doctor shrank back a little, gazing wide eyed at his new visitor.

It was Jack.

Captain Jack Harkness.

He held a cup of tea precariously in one hand as he gently shut the door behind him.

The Doctor watched as Jack set the cup down on the nightstand and then walked around the bed to the window on the other side of the room.

He caught sight of a darkened world outside, with a single yellow street light glowing dimly against the shadows before Jack drew the heavy curtains across, blocking it from view.

With a sniff and a heavy sigh, Jack turned toward the bed, shrugging off his navy greatcoat.

His eyes met the Doctor's and he froze, with one arm out of the coat.

For a moment, they stared at each other, Jack must have been unsure if he was seeing reality or not.

"Doctor?" he said gently, leaning forward a little.

"...Ja-ck" the Doctor replied, wincing at the way his voice seemed to scrape against the insides of his throat, painfully so.

A smile broke onto Jack's face and the greatcoat finally came off.

He actually laughed.

"You're awake...finally awake and aware. You were starting to worry me for a while there" Jack chuckled as he draped the coat across the end of the bed and returned to the vacant seat by his bed side.

By the time he sat down, his ice blue eyes were glimmering.

"...H...How...lo-ng?" The Doctor managed.

"Hang on, I'll get you some water. You're throat must be killing you" Jack said, getting up not ten seconds after sitting down and walked out the door.

This gave the Doctor another chance to monitor the other events in the house.

The movie was still going, but there was a distinct clinking and clattering of plate; probably a sign that he had come to sometime after dinner.

Martha and Francine must have moved further away, as their voices were faint now.

He sank back a little further into the bed, embracing the softness and the warmth.

Yet he kept absolutely still, sensing that any movement would be pure agony.

Jack suddenly returned, walking into the room quickly and closing the door behind him.

"Here we are, nice glass of cold water for the Time Lord...okay. Don't you move. I'll help you." Jack said, approaching the bed.

A witty retort pushed at the Doctor's mind and he was tempted to speak the trite remark aloud, but he sensed that Jack should not be berated for trying to help, that and the painful effort it took to speak jumped to the forefront of his mind. Jack gently sod his hand behind his head and raised him up just slightly.

Pain bit angrily at the nerves that had been disturbed, but the Doctor paid no mind to them.

The edge of the cool glass was rested gently on his lip and the cold water washed into his mouth and trickled down his aching throat.

It felt good.

Much better than the Doctor had been expecting.

But, he made the mistake of trying to take a breath while drinking, just to overcome a wave of pain.

His lungs rebelled as he inhaled a bit of the liquid, contracting.

The second he choked on the water, Jack took the glass away.

Just as he coughed.

Which again, was a big mistake.

Because then came the pain.

It exploded from his right side, agonizingly white hot pain that seemed to radiate, causing every nerve to scream.

As was the natural reaction other than screaming, the Doctor tried to move away from the pain.

Which was _another_ mistake.

His right arm flared in consciousness, the pain rivalling that of his right side.

Other parts of his body began to bring forth their suffering in all sorts of manners, but by far the worst was his side and arm.

The Doctor couldn't remember if he was screaming or not, all he remember was the pain, a gentle shushing noise from Jack who sounded completely calm, and then the now comforting darkness swallowed his mind, detaching himself from his physical body and the pain.

* * *

Returning to consciousness wasn't as hard as it was the first time. Nor was it as slow.

It was peaceful; the Doctor felt like waking from a deep sleep.

The singing was back, that same harmonious melody that could only ever have been sung by angels.

Not the weeping, psychopathic kind. Not the Hallmark, Disney kind either.

The most terrifyingly beautiful beings in the universe.

The Angels.

The Doctor had been blessed by Rassilion to have even seen one once.

It had been during the Time War, he remembered it as clearly as if it were yesterday.

_He'd been amongst the battle of Arcadia, death surrounding him. _

_Daleks screeching in their electronic voices, monotonous words in slightly varying tones. _

_Time Lords screaming as both death took them and a they charged head long into battle. _

_Above them, Dalek Ships and Time Lord ships with the odd Battle TARDIS collided in fiery bursts of fuel and metal. _

_Bombs, missiles and hunks of debris constantly rained down, killing thousands alone. _

_He looked up in despair, squinting through the thick black smoke that billowed upwards from a crater where a now unidentifiable ship burned. _

_There, among the chaos and bloodshed in the sky, glowed a golden light. Almost like a star, but humanoid in form. _

_It hung in the sky, it's robes that clothed it swirling and shimmering, constantly shifting in bright colours; too many in a second to identify one. _

_A feeling of sorrow and sadness radiated from it, touching the Doctor's hearts, mixing with the fear and the hatred. _

_Then, came the singing inside his head. Such beautiful melodies and soft words that changed all the fear and anger into a serene feeling of complete calm. _

_He no longer stood with the dead and the dying, he hung in the sky with the angel, lulled into a scene of peace._

_He gazed in wonder at this mystic being surrounded by a glowing aura, wondering why it was singing to him, of all the Time Lords. _

_But then, as if it never was; it shimmered into none existence, the song and the emotions fading from him. _

_The Doctor was again standing with the dead and the dying, full of fear and hatred, but staring at the sky in disbelief_

_Observing the most beautiful creature the universe had to offer, in the midst of the Time War left him dazed and confused. _

_It made him wonder about how on Gallifrey he was going to survive the war now, when he'd seen something as distracting as that!_

Suddenly, he was laying on his back, his body throbbing disconcertingly, listening to the singing, embracing the softness of the hand on his forehead.

He noticed that it would occasionally tousle his hair, almost absent-mindedly, before stroking his forehead in a most comforting manner.

The hand certainly belonged to that of Martha Jones; the voice he did not know.

And it interested him, very much so.

Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes without moving a muscle.

There, sat Martha.

Yes, the beautiful dark face of Martha Jones sat by him; gazing blankly out into the distance, her mind so far away.

Her lips were moving; that angelic song was indeed hers.

She only sang softly, barely above a whisper; singing only to him and no one else.

She sung for him.

In _that_ voice.

For _him._

A warm feeling of affection welled inside his hearts and he suppressed the urge to hold her.

It felt so good, to see her alive, her eyes open and glittering in the light, her face its usual light brown complexion, her body warm.

Not dull, not pale, not cold.

Not dead.

Martha's voice faded into silence, much to the disappointment of the Doctor.

He peered at her from under heavy eyelids, drinking in the sight of her living form, hoping that it would give him some strength to lift his arms and hug her to him.

But it didn't, nor did he find hidden reserves in his weak body and without the distraction of the song, the pain was growing again, the throbbing increasing and the dull ache growing into a slight burn.

"Don't stop" he whispered.

She didn't even jump, she looked down at him, totally calm.

Their eyes met, and she smiled warmly at him, and he managed to smile slightly up at her.

"You're supposed to be asleep" she chided.

The slight smile grew into a cheeky smirk.

"Your warbling woke me up" he said, much to Martha's amusement.

"But you said to me, don't stop." She chuckled.

He hummed slightly, and summoned a play thoughtful look to his face, before they fell silent.

Her fingers ran through his hair, and he lay struggling to stay awake.

Unintentionally, he gasped a little as his side pushed its way to the front of his mind, causing Martha to frown.

"Does it hurt again?" she asked worriedly.

A particularly strong wave of pain washed up on his mind, and he was limited to nodding slightly.

Over the annoying roar of blood rushing in his ears, he heard Martha's gentle voice, shushing him, soothing him.

Something pricked his arm, and he felt a warm liquid fill his body.

As it raced toward his brain, he felt as if he knew it, as if it had been in him before.

The warmth was indeed familiar, it was calming, not only that but it doused the strong pain, and left him mind clear and free, rather than fuzzy.

"Time Lord Medicine" Martha clarified.

A soft chuckle rose up inside the Doctor and he blinked owlishly.

"TARDIS help you with that, did she?" he asked.

Martha nodded rather guiltily, but smiling proudly.

She obviously felt like she'd done something good.

The Doctor readily admitted that she had.

If she'd given him morphine, if he'd survived the foreign medicine, he would have been dull minded and slow.

"...What happened? I was...awake earlier...wasn't I?" the Doctor asked, remembering Jack.

Martha looked to the window again.

"Almost three days ago now, on Jack's shift. Heard he gave you some water and you went and choked on it...Well Done" Martha said.

The Doctor's eyes widened as he recalled Francine talking about Martha's tests.

"Your exams...what about your exams?" he asked.

"I didn't go. I had to look after you. You pulled most of the stitches and were bleeding pretty bad after that ordeal. It took me and Jack forever to stop the bleeding. But don't worry about my exams, I called in and explained that...a family member was seriously injured and if I sat my exams, I wouldn't be on task." Martha said, pausing mid way though explaining.

The Doctor had a suspicion that she hadn't called him a 'family member', but something far more intimate.

A few examples flitted around his head.

Boyfriend, Fiancé, Husband, Lover, Concubine?

He wasn't too sure about the last two, in fact he as certain he could rule them out.

Suddenly, her hand was on his cheek, and she gazed sorrowfully at him.

"...By the way, I'm so sorry Doctor...I'm so sorry that it came down to you or him." She said.

There was only one event in recent memory that she could possibly be talking of.

"You know...what happened?" the Doctor said uncertainly.

"Yeah. Jack told me. He explained it all to me; the 'Year-That-Never-Was' as he calls it. How he nursed you back to health, how you kicked him out with some lame excuse that he wasn't ready. Then all about his travels, the people he met. The Resistance Fighters. Then he complained about finding you, said it was like finding a needle in a haystack...and...how you came to rescue me...but it all went horribly wrong. I died and you flipped out. And then Jack said you and the Master disappeared, but only you came back. Then the paradox machine and all the drama there. In fact...he went on for hours" Martha said softly.

The memory of her cold, dead body in his arms flashed before the Doctor's mind suddenly, and he cringed, shuddering at the pain it stirred deep within him.

"Doctor?" she asked tentatively.

He looked up at her, forcing a small smile before shaking his head.

"Just...thinking...remembering...uh...what happened? I mean...what do _you_ remember." The Doctor asked, brushing it off.

It earned him a look of disappointment from Martha, but she continued on, to answer his question.

"...I was kneeling there, it felt like I had just woken up or something like that. I couldn't see the Master anywhere, and all the guards and personnel were just standing around, just as confused as I was. Then Jack's charged in, screaming at me. I just remember that he was terrified, not to mention soaked in blood. Of course, at the time I had no idea what was going on, but I heard your name amidst Jack's rambling and I followed him. He took me to the TARDIS, she herself was pretty sick, but I was focused on you, laid out on the ramp...you looked dead...Doctor...my heart almost gave out when I saw you. You had a really, really faint heartbeat...your right heart if I recall correctly. And that's what I worked with. The TARDIS took us back to my Mum's house. Jack had gone and gotten my family out from the Valiant's holding cells, and we came back here. You've been in a coma for almost three weeks. And none of your wounds have healed...I was hoping that you'd shed some light on the subject." Martha explained, tears coming to her eyes as her own painful memories stung her.

If the Doctor would have moved his hand without the threat of pain, he would have taken her hand and squeezed it gently.

As it was, all he could do was smile sympathetically at her.

"You don't really need to worry about the inner workings of a Time Lord when in a comatose...but...the comatose is usual induced to repair mental damage, not the body. It's taken almost three weeks to rebuild my mind? Well...that just proves that I must be a genius!" The Doctor said brazenly.

Martha smiled slightly, watching him closely.

"Will you be alright? You won't...relapse or anything?" she asked unsteadily.

"Yup...unless you feed me aspirin." The Doctor said.

"Aspirin?" she murmured with a frown.

"Don't worry...just don't feed me aspirin. It'll kill me dead" he replied.

Silence fell, in which Martha's hand began to wander in his hair again.

For the first time since the first words he'd spoken to her, the Doctor felt exhausted.

His eyes were sore and his eyelids so very heavy; he struggled to keep them open.

"Martha?" he breathed.

"...Yes?" she asked gently.

He motioned with his head for her to come closer, and she did.

A faint scent of peaches seemed to surround her, just barely detectable until she leaned in close but even then it was only a tantalizing hint.

He leaned up slightly and gently pressed his lips to hers, as a form of thank you, before nestling back into the bed; letting his exhaustion consume his weak body and weary mind.

Slowly, his eyes slid closed and as he sunk into the deep folds of sleep; he gave a request.

"Martha...sing to me again...please" he whispered, so quietly that Martha could only have heard him if she was leaning as close to him as she was.

She giggled slightly, recognizing the kiss as an innocent thank you, before the low, soft voice began again.

The melody lulled him to sleep, smoothly with its dulcet tones that only an angel could sing.

He fell into a deep sleep, with a faint smile upon his lips, content with the universe, with Martha's fingers lost in his hair.

* * *

**So, there you have it!  
The Waking of the Eternal Nightmare...FINISHED.  
I dunno whether to be happy or sad.  
Cause it was fun!  
Anyway...Review...thanks so much...  
After this point, there's a list of ALL the people I wanna thank!  
If I missed ya, then I love ya all the more cause I'm sorry. **

**_forestwife :- Many big hugs to you! Glad we got to talking!  
blancmange, VHunter, xxxSugar Plum Fairyxxx, Gamine Madcap, Aqua Mage, Elwyndra, The Tenth Doctor's Companion, TenthDoctorFan, Indiana-Parker, Simone Lecrae, dreamer24-7, Verina100, Kirstieee, bluedragon1836, ClumsyTonks, JennMel, ZiggyChaos, Driessen, RubyRedMorena, SwiftWolf, the-writer1988, Lindir's Ghost, MistressCoCoLoVeR. _**

**All you people took the time out to review, to press that little button.  
So, from the bottom of my heart to you all, thank you.  
I'll always be a Ten/Martha supporter, so if you write something along those lines, drop me a line and I'll be one of your hopefully many reviewers!  
Thank you!  
You're support has meant so much.  
HUGS!!  
Bye, bye!!**

**For now...  
**


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